The Tale of Daughters-in-love

In Dutch they are called beautiful – both sons and daughters. I must admit I do not know the exact etymology, but I like the thought. I was a beautiful son to my beautiful mother before she passed away. My sons are beautiful sons to their beuatiful fathers and mothers. And we have two beautiful daughters. In English we are much more formal: daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, mothers-in-law, fathers-in-law. The law was needed to add them to the family and the law can remove them as well. 

My (Scott) mom has long used a different term for her daughters-in-law (she having 5 sons) which I have understood she heard first by someone else. She was the first one I heard use it and I love it: daughters-in-love. Yes, the law has made them officially part of the family, and we are very greatful for that. But it is the love our sons have for them that brought them into the family, the love that we have for them that ties us to them. And even if the law should officially change things, they can remain “in-love”. 

So as we left Texas, we headed to Indiana where we were able to be treated by our daughter-in-love, Natalie. We had already experienced her love for us when Stephan and Natalie came to Europe to visit and she planned a trip to Oxford. Natalie understands how much we want to be able to spend time with Stephan and she allows for that. At the same time, she does not shy away from our desire to be with her as well. So we had time together at the Ikea, at their home and walking with the rest of the in-loves who live in Indianapolis. 

In New York we met up with our other daughter-in-love, Jill, and were treated to her love for us and for Scott’s mom for the few days we had together. As with Natalie, Jill understands mothers wanting time with their sons (and made time for Shirley with Sean and Scott with Patricia). Making sure that we found somewhere everyone could eat (even if that meant adapting her restaurant desires), looking for metro stations with an elevator, going places that everyone wanted to go. Yes, these are things that a kind person would do. And that is my point exactly. Our daughters are loving people, in love with our sons. We are so thankful for our daughters-in-love. 

In addition, we had opportunity in Colorado, Indiana and California to visit with all of our sisters-in-love and even a brother-in-love (from whom we heard all kinds of fun stories about traveling). And although law may have adapted the status of some in this group, we were very thankful for our visit in San Diego with our sister-in-love and nephew. 

Shirley and I both learned long ago what Jesus meant when he pointed out that family is different than blood. Peter mentioned to Jesus that they had left all behind to follow Jesus and Jesus replied: “No one who has left home or wife or brothers or sisters or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age, and in the age to come eternal life.” (Luke 18:29-30) 

We have experienced this in the church everywhere. God has given us a family everywhere. And in addition – we can enjoy our daughters-in-love. What does your family look like? Take the time to enjoy them all. 

In the meantime

As we headed out of Texas, we headed into more family time and our main supporting congregation. In addition, we were still dealing with passport issues and work that needed to be done nay the time we got back to Belgium.
In the meantime, we of course have returned and are already past one of the three weeks of Bible Camp. What a wonderful week it was! But that is for the coming tales. For now I can point you to the pictures I have finally been able to put up from Indiana, California and New York City. Later this week I may be able to continue the tales and get caught up to where we are now going - Teen Camp and Family Camp.
Thanks for taking the time to stop by and for keeping us in your prayers!

The Tale of the Old Friend

Daniel and Tonita

Friendships begin in the strangest ways. Some begin in school, where you discover new books at the same time or you realize that you love the same kind of music or tv shows. Sometimes these friendships are even with a brother or sister – if you can believe that that is possible. And it is. But old friends – not a friend who is old, although that is certainly possible and will of course happen in time, but friends who begin of old and remain friends – old friends are able to pick up where they left off the last time they met. 

As we have traveled from midwest state to mountains to Texas to California, we have been able to touch on all of our old friendships and revel in them. Shirley and her sister, Mary, are able to share stories of going to school (or not) and share their hearts with one another. Scott picks up his story with his best friend, Bret, and makes new ones along the way. Sometimes we even meet people who in an evening seem to have become friends as of old. 

Years ago on the last trip we made with both boys – we call it ‘The Road Trip’ and can date all our other trips by that trip – we stopped in to spend the night with a family in Grand Junction, Colorado. They had offered to put us up for the night, having heard of us from Scott’s best friend, Bret. An evening of singing, playing guitar and meeting a loving great big family of kids resulted in a continued encouragement throughout the years. And then suddenly, at a meeting in Greeley, Colorado, you run across one of the kids grown and are able to share this friendship again. 

Or in Texas at the house that has become our away-from-home home. Shirley walked down the aisle in Arkansas to marry Scott on the day that her classmates walked down an aisle to receive their diploma (she received hers in the mail). That evening they left as Mr. and Mrs. Scott Raab and drove out of Searcy, Arkansas. They stopped that first evening in Hot Springs, Arkansas, but drove on the next day. The car they drove was a cobbled together piece of iron riding on tires bought by Scott’s mother. They found out later that second night as they arrived at their destination (two old friends from Canada where they would spend the next two weeks) that the car had gassed them all the way across Texas. 

E.B. and Jean

So the car never drove again, but we went the very next day to services at 11th & Willis church of Christ and were touched by the mission-mindedness and love of the congregation. The next week on Sunday we returned and met E.B. and Jean Dotson with whom we became old friends and whose home became our home whenever we stop in to Texas. Popcorn and m&m’s with a movie is a standard time together, along with long conversations about how God is working in the world and how we all can serve Him better. 

While in Texas this time we also drove down to meet with Tonita and Daniel Stovall – two more old friends. Tonita was Shirley’s roommate, Daniel sang at our wedding and both of them connected us to our supporting congregation in Minnesota. We have shared our lives from afar througout the years and are thankful to be able to meet – if only for a few hours at a cafe in Comanche, Texas. 

We don’t always choose the people we meet. Sometimes it simply happens. But we do choose with whom we will continue these friendships. We are so very thankful for the old friends we get to see again on our travels. Care well for these friendships (I am sure you have them too) and be thankful. Enjoy each moment, even as it is a simple moment for a short time. 

The Tale of the New Song

“It thrills my soul to hear the songs of praise we mortals sing below. And though it takes the parting of the ways, yet I must onward go...” I want to hear this song – is what we sing. The song of Mozes and the Lamb – a new song, different than all the rest, because the time is different. Time will have passed and we will be Home. That is the new song (see Revelation 5:9 and 14:3). But this is not the only new song. 

As we have moved from supporting congregation to supporting congregation, thrilled at the encouragement that we enjoy and the faithfulness that we see, we have also taken time to work on some singing. We offered a singing workshop in Muscatine and in Denver. The workshop in Denver especially was focused on writing new songs. And then we think of Psalm 96 or 40 or 98. God is our song and makes our heart sing!

Written by John Raab
and Karsten and Sandi Rog

It has been exciting to see what can be done when normal members allow the word of God to touch their hearts. This is one of the things we have been doing in the Netherlands and Belgium with members there. Years ago one the members in Maastricht put the words from Psalm 96 to tune. We still sing it regularly in worship on a Sunday morning or at Bible camp. At the workshop in Denver, two couples worked together to put the words to another tune and learned that God can use them as well. 

This looking for new tunes and putting the words of God to tune has been a real blessing to the church in Belgium and the Netherlands. There are plenty of English-language songs which can be translated (and these have also blessed the church there), but these new tunes come from the members themselves and are in Dutch, not needing translation. 

This is something we would love to see happening all over the world. It is great to recognize a song being sung in a video of a foreign congregation because it is a translation, but how amazing would it be if we were learning and translating songs from other countries and cultures? And what a blessing to be able to sing in your own language and method and harmonies, putting the word of God into your heart? 

Last week we even talked with others about how the deaf brothers and sisters have completely other needs in singing. Yes, they sing. And if we say that it is our hearts that sing to the Lord – and that the most important – than those who are deaf or unable to sing, sing just as much as any other. The deaf Christians emphasize the words and look for signs that are more expressive and clear, since they do not really work with rhyme. However it may be, it is exciting to look to the word of God and allow His Spirit to guide in helping to put these words in our hearts through song.

Are you interested in the four new songs written in Denver? Let us know and we will send you the links when all is ready. 

Interested in some of the songs written in Dutch by members? Check out www.geestelijkeliederen.nl

The Tale of the Passed Port

A “port” can be a “port of call”, a place where you arrive and depart. We have had many of these already on our travels during this journey, as well as all the many times we have traveled in the past. Each port brings its own special moments, memories and adventures to enter into. 

In Dutch a port is a gate, very much the same idea as a sea port. A gate allows entry into your yard, a barn or even a city wall. It is at the same time a barrier (think of a gate to keep the baby away from dangerous areas in the house) and an entrance. Each time we move to a different location on our travels, we pass through some of these ports, but what do you do when the port threatens to stay closed?

As we readied ourselves to leave Colorado and move on to Texas, we were thankful for Scott’s brother accompanying us to the airport in Denver. He not only works here, but he is calm and business-like when it is needed – and it was needed. Our flight was to leave just before 11am, so we had to leave the house at 7am in order to return the rental car and be at check-in in time to get through all the gates of check-in, baggage and customs before reaching our gate in our terminal. 

To start all of this process requires scanning your tickets at a ‘kiosk’ (some of you can picture this, having done it before), paying for our baggage (that’s another tale for another time) and then getting our boarding passes. At this point the kiosk asks to scan your passports. And it was at this point that we realized, frantically, that Shirley did not have her passport. 

Somewhere (we are still not sure where) her little blue book with stamps from friendly customs officials around the world had gone missing. Andsuddenly we did not know if we would be able to pass through this port to get to their gate. To make things even more complicated, Shirley only has identification from Belgium. Not a problem, really. It is a formal identity card – except that it is according to Belgian standards, which means that it is in her maiden name. 

“Do you have any other forms of identification?” my brother asks. “Credit card, driver’s licence?” No – and if she does, it is in her maiden name. You see, the Belgians want their women to be able to keep their name and inherit. So Shirley, in Belgium, has always been known by and must sign her maiden name. But our tickets to fly are in her married name, because that is what is on her US passport: her married name. 

By now we have called Scott’s other brother and asked him to ransack his house, looking everywhere for the passport. Scott’s older brother suggests simply asking the ticketing agent if she can change the ticket, using the Belgian ID card. With trepidation, we stand in the line waiting for the agent, wondering how this will be resolved. We figured that, if need be, we could purchase another ticket, but wondered how our other flights would go. And we hadn’t yet gotten to either of our boys. When we finally approached Loretta (that was her name) Shirley was thoroughly miserable and Scott tried to explain what we needed. 

Loretta calmly took the creditcard-sized ID card and examined it in silence. She glanced at Shirley, looked again at the card and announced, “Well, the date of birth fits. So, okay, we’ll change that ticket for you to Walker-Raab. That should work.” And relief flooded through our limbs as we started breathing again. But we were not yet there. 

Scott’s brother walked with us (he works for TSA) and explained that they would probably flag her ID as alternate and that she would need to go through a pat-down. We went to a different security check where he was sure that they would have a female agent. Otherwise we would need to wait until they found one. But at this checkpoint, the TSA official simply looked at her ticket, glanced at her card and passed her through. We had passed this port and were on our way to the gate.

We said our farewells to Scott’s brother at the gate, thanking him profusely for his calm and his suggestion to just try what we could. We should have known. The Dutch have a saying: “You already have ‘no’. You can only get ‘yes’ if you ask.” We had passed all the way through this gauntlet and took our flight to Texas where we would need to set in motion the wheels needed to get a new passport in time to make our international travels. But we will still need to repeat this process of passing these gates three more times before we see our boys and head back to Belgium. 

Knowing that you are welcome, that you belong, is essential to our life and our life in Christ. We are so thankful that Jesus the Christ not only knew what we needed in order to pass through the gate of death but to enter into the gate of eternal life, but also took care of it. Have you considered this? What is keeping you back if you haven’t made a choice to join Him? You already have “no”. God is waiting with “YES”! 

The Tale of the Colorado Kid

Years ago, in a kitchen in Berlin, Germany, a family listened to John Denver sing about Rocky Mountain High and discussed where they should move to when dad retired. Colorado sounded like a paradise land, full of mountains and gold rush, science fiction space dangers (NORAD was where we would move), new possibilities and friends. We (Scott and his family) grew up in an Air Force family, moving every three years or sooner to a new place. Now, things would change. We would stay put. Scott was in sixth grade and excited about what was to come. 

They drove out to Colorado Springs and I remember the first sight of the mountains – after realizing that the other siting of the mountains were just clouds on the horizon. “No, really. Those are mountains!” We stopped the car, got out and had a small snowball fight (it was Fall). Our new house had a backyard where we could throw the football. We were quickly out of breath and somehow it just seemed cool that this came from the elevation (more than a mile high!). 

A lot of the most important influences in my life came here. I became a Bronco’s fan (we were, after all, now in Colorado), started singing in all different ways, learned about and experienced Bible camp and met my best friend who helped me to meet Jesus Christ. I was born in Colorado Springs (even though I first saw the world’s light in San Antonio, Texas). It is hard to believe that those beginnings were all so long ago – so sometimes I just don’t do the math. I just enjoy the memories. 

While we are here in Colorado, we are spending some time in Colorado Springs visiting with Scott’s two brothers and their families before going up to Denver to visit with his older brother and sister. We met up with the brothers in Fargo’s Pizza Parlor, which is a memory in itself for Scott. The next day we drove around visiting Scott’s old haunts: his elementary school junior high and high school. We also dropped by his old house and talked to the current owner and took a picture of Scott’s “climbing tree”. 

A night of bowling at the old bowling alley down the street, a dinner full of conversation about current travels, laughing about past hilarities and discussing jobs and kids and grandkids have filled the few days here. It has been good to see everyone again.There is a brother missing, but that will come in a different tale. 

For now, we have continued on the Colorado trail. On Saturday Scott offered a singing workshop at the congregation where his best friend preaches. It is amazing to see how God can help people who think they cannot write music write 4 new songs that will encourage fellow Christians. Sunday evening Scott met with others to talk about how Christian camps help develop the members of the church. It was good to share stories, meet old friends and make new friends. It has been good to see the Colorado kids. 

Do we ever know where we are going to arrive when we depart? We think we do. We were on our way to Colorado. But that was a journey that so far has led us to Belgium and the Netherlands. We still don’t know where all of this is taking us, but we know that the journey is a good one, because we are walking with Him wherever we go. Where are you going? Or… with whom are you going? 

Here are the pictures of this leg of the journey (I will still be adding to these in the coming days). Next we will be heading down to Texas – but that is another tale. 

The Tale of Stepping in St. Paul

'Twin Cities' is a very apt description for Minneapolis-St. Paul. These two major cities mirror each other across the river. While we were visiting our supporting congregation of Woodbury church of Christ, we stayed for the first time in St. Paul which is the capitol of the state of Minnesota. In the past we spent most of the time in the suburbs of Woodbury, or across the border in Hudson, Wisconsin. This was the first time for us to stay in St. Paul and get to know this area. 

After the graudation parties from The Tale of Home and meeting with the church on Sunday, we had a bit of free time on Memorial Day. Many people think about cooking out, visiting with family and celebrating those who have died for the country. We were staying with a young couple in St. Paul who work from home – a newly purchased house which they were willing to share with us for a few days. But it literally rained on all the parades that day. 

By the evening, however, we just needed to get out of the house for a bit and walk around. So we borrowed two pink and purple umbrellas from our hosts and walked downtown. We were that close that it was only about a 30 minute walk. We didn’t know what we would find, but have never been adverse to an adventure. And this was not the only adventure. The rest of our time in Minnesota was spent enjoying stepping out in St. Paul (and a few other areas). 

That first evening downtown brought us to "The St. Paul". That is what this luxurious hotel is called. We just knew that we wanted to see what we expected to be a beautiful lobby. But the exuberently friendly desk clerk directed us to all the exciting areas in the hotel, invited us to eat in the hotel restaurant and told us all sorts of interesting tidbits about the city and the hotel. Presidents stayed here (and paid a whopping $2 a night at the time). 

Later that evening we walked with our hosts, Corbin and Mandy, to a local brewery turned indoor market. Many things are indoor in Minnesota as a result of what the winters can be like. That is why one of the biggest malls is found here, the Mall of America. We of course could not skip spending an afternoon looking around this mall and being amazed at how much is offered in one location. Stores upon stores, and even a theme park inside the mall! 

Later in the week, we were welcomed by our second host, Jimmy, to his midcentury-modern home not far from the old St. Paul airport (Holden Field) where we got a cup of coffee one afternoon. We also walked along the Indian Burial Mounds park looking down on the airfield. A perfect view of the city, with the cathedral and capitol building, welcomed us from atop this bluff. Those two monuments were our next destination. 

Summit Avenue is a broad street lined with monumental mansions of days gone by which tell of the vast wealth that came to this city at and around the beginning of the 20th century. Views over the river, sprawling, beautiful homes of various styles and sunshine to enjoy it all. We walked along the mansions and back to the cathedral perched atop the point of the hill. This cathedral, built according to the St. Peter’s cathedral in Rome, rose in the place of one of the mansions and took about 20 years to complete. 

After strolling through the stone interior, we jumped in the car and rode the short distance to the capitol building we could see not far away (but too far to walk to). The clouds added to the early evening ambience and we finished another day of wonder-walking in St. Paul, enjoying the homes and neighborhoods as we returned to our host’s home. (check out the pictures from this tale here)

In our last few days we enjoyed walking around the neighborhood to a rental house our host was working on, visiting a brass quintet concert at one of the many, many universities these cities are graced with, walking around a small lake where we listened to birdsong and shared conversations about the song of life in Jesus Christ, and visiting Minnehaha Falls. All of these walks were spent with old friends and new contacts. Walking together is always a good way to spend the time and get to know one another. 

Could it be that is why Jesus invites us to walk with Him in the light? It is exciting that no matter where we go – whether in St Paul, Minnesota or Colorado (our next stop), we can walk with Jesus, the King and get to know him. The world is a different place when we take that walk. 

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.1 John 1:7

The Tale of Home

Whoever has traveled and lived in various locations understands that “home” is hard to define. This is even harder as your family – brothers and sisters – begin starting their own lives and moving on. Sometimes just being together means “home”. Sometimes it is a place. Sometimes it is a sound, smell or taste that brings you immediately to a different time and “homey” feeling. 

The first day we arrived in Minnesota, we experienced what some told us is a unique Minnesota (and perhaps Twin Cities) experience: a graduation party for high school graduates. But these parties could rival any wedding reception we have seen. We have understood that parents get together and help one another in these efforts. We were honored to be invited to several of these and pleased to be able to attend two. 

What really hit home at these parties was the feeling of “home”. These graduates get together with fellow classmates and families and look back at the year and ahead to their future. We were able to meet with several members of the congregation in an informal atmosphere. It always helps to get names in your head again before seeing people that we know, but haven’t seen in quite a while. 

Even funner was how we were unexpectedly made to feel at home at both of these parties. At the first, a man was making “Authentic Dutch mini-pancakes”. We of course recognized them immediately as “poffertjes”, so we asked him if he knew Dutch and what his story was. He had the recipe from his grandmother (who they indeed called “Oma”) and had all the necessary pans and accoutrements. We thoroughy enjoyed a few, even though we don’t usually eat pancakes, and felt at “home” – as if we were in Holland. 

The very next evening, we were at another graduation party (see all of Minnesota pictures here) and enjoyed conversations with other members of the church and seeing the graduates revel and imagine. And what did we run into here but a candy bar (literally – a bar with all sorts of candy) with York Peppermint Patties. For Scott, this hearkens to “home” again. This is a candy he loved when growing up but which is unavailable where we live. So he was “home” again. 

The beautiful thing on all of our travels is that we often feel at home and away at the same time. This is often bittersweet, but beautiful. And it consistently reminds us that “this world is not my home, I’m just a-passin through.” We know we will never feel completely at home here, but when we are together as Christians, we can be at home anywhere.

This was made clear again as we met with the congregation on Sunday. Scott presented the class on the first Sunday to the teens and the next Sunday to the adult class. On the first Sunday afternoon, we also met with the urban ministry group, which is mostly Hmong families who have come to Christ. Whereve we are, wherever we go, we belong to Christ and want to share the love and grace we have received in Him. With Him we are always Home. 

The Tale of Two Families

This is a tale that will be told many times over during these travels. We are journeying from city to city, state to state visiting family, tied to each other by blood either spiritual or physical. As we arrived in Minneapolis following the tale of the alternate airport, we set off the following morning for the warmer climes of Muscatine, Iowa. 

The day after we arrived the temperature hit 91 degrees (that’s fahrenheit, of course). We thought we had finally found summer. But the next day, and almost every day after in Iowa, brought rain and much cooler temperatures. Iowa is a farming state, and although rain is mostly a good thing, too much rain means that the crop cannot be planted or harvested. So not everyone was happy with the blessing from above. Especially as it also brought a good bit of flooding in its wake. 

We, however, had come to a church and a church family used to depending on the Lord for growth and strength. It was good to see old faces (and even speak Dutch to the Schellekens) and meet some new faces. Scott presented a singing workshop for the area and enjoyed challenging thoughts later with the Bible Bros – the young (and not so young any more) brothers of the congregation. What conditions are helping you to grow the seeds of faith in your life? 

We were so thankful to visit with church family, visit later with residents of a local nursing home singing praise to the Lord, and enjoy the hospitality of this family that has been so faithful not only in supporting us, but also our colleague, Sue Foster, who works with the church in Ghent. It is so good to know and feel this tie between the churches in Iowa and Belgium. 

As we left Iowa, the sun shone for a brief moment and we drove across the state, marveling at the beauty of rolling hills, greening in their spring glory – albeit also often drowning in places by the excess waters from the continuing rain. But we were heading to family, and nothing could take away the expectant joy of seeing them again. 

Shirley’s family lives in Omaha, Nebraska and as we drove past the highway works in Council Bluffs, Iowa, leading into Omaha and then past the Henry Doorly Zoo, road works greeted us everywhere. These are mostly due to the recent flooding in Nebraska. Still, we arrived at our hotel safely and headed off to see Shirley’s sister. We were wondering how everyone was doing since we had heard that Shirley’s brother had had to evacuate during the flooding of his town, Valley. What do you do when everything you own is drowned in unexpected flooding or tossed away in a tornado or turned to ash in a fire? Many of our friends have had to deal with these things in recent months. We were thankful to see that Shirley’s brother had landed on his feet, finding a new home, and that his town was already drying out. 

When we come to Omaha, we enjoy getting to see kids we have known since they were just 2 years old. Shirley’s sister came to live with us at certain periods in the beginning of our marriage. Now those kids are grown, married and have their own kids. Time flies indeed. So besides visiting and enjoying these family moments, we took a quick walk down memory lane, visiting some of the schools Shirley and her sister attended. 

The most difficult part of seeing family is having to separate again. Shirley’s sister is struggling with her health and our heart wants to stay and help. It feels good to be together again but the reality of the differences between physical family and spiritual family assert themselves at times like this. We so want to know that we will see all of our family again, but that is only possible as blood relatives of the family of Christ. We were thankful for time to make this clear during our visit with family. 

Our time in Omaha was short. We drove off in the sunshine and head north again to Minnesota where we would close this loop of the travels. But that is another tale. In the meantime, we have updated some of the pictures if you are interested in seeing those. 

The Tale of the Alternate Airport

All airports are areas of amazing adventure. Our journey across the water began in Schiphol (Amsterdam Airport) and ended in MSP (Minnepolis-St. Paul, which is Minnesota), but it was the stops in between which make the tale complete of course, since we did not fly from Amsterdam to Minnesota. No, in the effort made by many these days (remember the days of consulting a travel agent?) to make flying more affordable, we had booked a cheaper flight, which meant more flights. 

I must apologize that we have no pictures of this part of our travels (these are not mine). We were too busy getting from one place to another. We flew from Schiphol to London Heathrow early in the morning. In London we enjoyed the hospitality of this mega-airport for a short time before stepping on the plane to Ney York City’s John F. Kenndy airport. A short 6 hours or so (and several movies on our personal media device) later, we landed in the Big Apple – and there began our biggest adventure. 

We had planned a flight from Newark airport to Minneapolis. For those of you who do not know, Newark is in New Jersey, which is the next state over from New York. “No problem”, thought I, “New York City and Newark are actually right next to each other and flow into one another.” And we had more than four hours on a layover to get from one to the other. We had landed at midday and our flight wasn’t leaving until after 5pm. As long as there were no problems with the bus we had arranged to get us from one airport to the next, their would be no problems at all. 

And that is when adventures truly begin. When everything is going as planned, adventure is waiting, watching for the moment to jump in and make things exciting. It is when things begin to fall apart, depart from the plan, that adventure smiles broadly and makes an entrance. And so too with our trip. 

The bus was called and would arrive within 45 minutes. We sat waiting, watching the various peoples that congeal and disapate in laughter and conversation, welcoming parents from their trip, screaming in delight at seeing one another after many months or years. A girl’s volleyball team loudly saying goodbye to each other as they went their separate ways. Several Jewish families waiting patiently to be picked up. A southern couple drawling about what they had seen and would tell to the grandkids. 

And we waited. Our flight was to leave at 5:30pm, but we knew we would still need to go through customs and get to the gate once we made it to the airport. We figured (and had checked out) that midday traffic across town would not be bad and we should be able to make the trip in 90 minutes. So if the bus came by 2pm at least, eveyrthing would be fine. But it was now 2 o’clock and the bus had not yet arrived. 

After waiting 2 hours, the bus finally arrived, having already passed our entrance and needing to drive completely around the airport again to arrive back at our entrance. Together with a man who was outwardly showing what we were feeling inside, we handed our luggage to the driver who would load it on the van. All of the luggage (the van was full of passengers) had been tossed higgeldy-piggeldy in the bag of the van, piled up like the stack a young child makes when cleaning up their toys. 

The van departed into what was now quickly becoming rush hour traffic – in New York City! “Are we heading into that traffic?” one passenger exclaimed with anguish. We tried not to worry, knowing that, whatever happened, we would be okay. We looked for things that Sean and Jill might see on a regular day, names of places we had heard them mention. We thrilled at crossing the Verazzano Narrows bridge. And when the van came to a car-pool lane and passed by all the still-standing traffic, we all breathed a sigh of relief. 

In the end, we – as the last ones out of the van, after the driver had to undo his toy-stack with each departing passenger – arrived at our terminal, ran to our gate and stood in line for the security check (shoes off, belt off, change out, computer out etc). It was 5pm and our flight would board at 5:05pm. In the row in front of us, two women jovially discussed their work. They too, were on their way to Minneapolis and seemed not worried in the least. 

It turns out the plane was slightly delayed and we had time to grab something to eat from an airport store. We even enjoyed another sit down watching the people who would board with us. This would be a slightly shorter flight and we were planning on sleeping. It had been almost 24 hours since we woke to go to the airport. When we arrived in Minneapolis, we were met by Dale Hawley’s friendly face. He took us to our hotel (we would be leaving for Iowa the next morning), gave us the keys to his car and bade us good night. 

We had survived and enjoyed another amazing adventure. We have learned, time and again, that even if things do not work out as we expected or hoped, they work out. God is with us wherever we go. Which is why we simply look out for how we can be an encouragement to those around us and enjoy the ride. But the ride – that is the next tale. 

Tales of Travels

In the coming days I will attempt to update you on our travels and visits why we are in the US. I am still learning how to use a smartphone and have never been good at selfies, so any pictures you see of us were probably taken by others. But we will try to share some pictures as well, so keep an eye on our photo site if you are interested in those. 

We start with “The Tale of the Hotel/Motel” 

Our trip began before we ever stepped foot on an airplane. First we had to get to the amazing flying machine. This is the tale of how that came to be and what ensued. 

Early in the morning we were already rushing about, scrambling and scurrying as one does at the last minute. The house had to be made ready to lay dormant for two whole months. 

Surprisingly, an amazing amount of work needs to be done for dormancy – perhaps a bear would know about things like that. Everything needed vacuumed (well, not everything, but you get the idea), foodstuffs had to be put away or eaten, dusting, wiping, scrubbing and bed-making-upping had to be finished. You see, the vacancy will only be partial. Halfway through our absence, the house will receive guists. At the end of our time away, just before we return, good friends will also enjoy the house. So everything had to be ready to use, but as empty as possible. 

By midday we were as ready as we were going to be, and anyway our ride to the train station had arrived. Yes, we were taking the train to the airport. Once at the station we figured out how best to motivate our bags along – this was something we would be doing a lot of, so we had to discover the best method. We had done well in keeping our bags to a minimum, though not a bare minimum – we were after all going to be gone for two months, beginning in the Spring and ending in the heat of summer. But balancing one little bag on a big bag and rolling the other two worked quite well. 

On the train we had to be careful tht the rolling bags didn’t run away, but we arrived at Schiphol with no real drama. It had been a pleasant if not quiet ride (we sat in the area meant for bicycles). At the airport we had arranged to have our hotel pick us up at the airport (yes, we were already doing a hotel and had not even flown one foot). Since our flight was very early, and we would have to be very very early to be on time, we had decided to spend the night in Zwanenburg. 

A city of swans – that is what one imagines. And once we found the water, we were not disappointed. Which was more than we could say about our hotel, which was actually a motel. Mind you, the town itself is very quaint and quiet. Our room at the hotel had to be accessed via an outside door, past other hotel guests enjoying the late evening sunlight and then opening our door into our room. But we had a room and we were thankful. 

Plus, we had swans, and shoarma, and seats. This was important after we had taken a short walk around Zwanenburg and then into Halfweg, walking halfway into Scott’s memory of when he used to bike past this area on his way to Dutch lessons in Amsterdam. Walking down memory lane is always energizing, but we hadn’t eaten since leaving home, so we were very pleased to find a shoarma restaurant open and serving. 

Back at the hotel we were frustrated to find the internet not working. Most of society today runs on the internet and we still had to check in to our flight. But that would have to wait for the next day, which was fast arriving and would come even faster for us. We awoke at 4:30 and got everything ready for the bus to the airport which would leave at 5:30 for our flight at 7:30. Sitting near the check-in desk meant that we had internet, so all was right with the world, just as the bus arrived, loaded our luggage and we departed in the cool morning sunrise of the Netherlands, on our way to America, via Great Britain. But that is another tale. 

Family!

As we prepare to head off for two months, we are reminded again of the things that are so important and real in our lives. The apostle Peter said to Jesus, “We have left all we had to follow you!” Jesus replied, “No one who has left home or wife or brothers or sisters or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of Godwill fail to receive many times as much in this age, and in the age to come eternal life.”

People here are almost flabbergasted when we mention that we will be gone for two months – until we explain where we will go and who we will see. Then it is often surprise that we are welcomed in so many placesby people we don’t even know. And truly, it is wonderful to know that we have family all over the world. And while we are very much looking forward to hugging on our boys’ necks, seeing our daughters-in-lawagainand seeing our blood relatives, we are also so thankful that we will be able to see brothers and sisters in Christ whomwe have not seen for quite a while and meet new parts of the family all over the US.

But before we get to see everyone on that side of the water, we have been spending time with our family here. As I wrote earlier this year, blessings come in all sorts of packages, including painful ones. It has been beautiful to see how we as a family in Maastricht can help one another when a member loses a loved one, when a dreaded diagnosis is given, or when a daily reality of living with a spouse antagonistic to faith hits again. We are here for one another. 

We have also been spending these last couple weeks trying to take care of everything that needs to keep going while we are gone. We will jump into a week of camp three days after we arrive back in Belgium, so lessons and plans need to be in place already. We want to make the most of relationships with people we have been talking to about God’s love, so we have spent time around the table in conversations. And the grass finally needs to be mowed and the weeds on the driveway pulled. 

In March Shirley enjoyed the ladies retreat in Germany. Scott held another singing workshop, this time in Eindhoven where Scott and Shirley go every third Wednesday for singing. We enjoyed several Monday evening studies with brothers and sisters as well as several other Wednesday studies at our home. 

These are the kinds of things we also look forward to in our travels in the coming months. Scott will offer a song workshop in Muscatine and Denver, will share thoughts and views on Bible camps and missions and will, together with Shirley, talk about how God has brought us this far and how He wants to use all of us. We look forward to seeing you in the US. Please let us know if we can hook up when we are in your neck of the woods. Family is very important to us.