Thursday, September 3, 2009--Hitzacker, Germany

Typical home in the German countryside near Hamburg


Today has been the second day of my journey by bicycle from Hamburg to Venice. The day started out with a drizzle and went through what seemed like all seasons of the year. There was thunder and lightning and rain driven by a wind so strong that the raindrops stung the face and the progress of the bicycle was negligible (of course the wind was in my face). And there was a delightful stop for coffee and a sweet when the sun shone so brightly that it was hot on the skin. And there were ups and downs, some confusion about route, and glorious panoramas of the Elbe River. I pedaled through several classic German towns, climbed a castle tower to where the bells hung, and ended up in Hitzacker, an ancient city on the Elbe, and ended up traveling just short of 58 miles. In short it was a classic cycling day.


When I researched the route Brian and I are taking I was uncertain of the nature of the Elberadweg, that is the Elbe cycle path. In the literature (most of which is in German so unintelligible to me) the path is presented as clearly marked and easily traveled. Today I learned that while generally accurate, neither is completely true. At times the marking was missing, so we chose well marked roads instead of the path, and at times the route was rough cobblestone or sidewalks. But most of the time the route was as advertised, one I would, with some caution, still recommend.


Aside from the interesting countryside and the ancient villages, the most interesting event of the day was a conversation with a hotel/restaurant owner. I asked him a bit about the area, and he went further than answering my basic and simple questions. One of the subjects he initiated was the border between East and West Germany, which he informed me was, at this point, the Elbe River itself. My lack of attention to this fact is a sign of how quickly things change, as I realized that not that many years ago I would have been on the frontier of two opposing powers and two competing cultures. Nor would I have realized that tomorrow, after just a few miles, I would be entering former East Germany and that all of the rest of my time in Germany I would be there, in places that were closed to people like me until relatively recently. The hotelier encouraged me to cross the river and note the change, to look behind the store fronts lining the road to the buildings and houses behind. He said the difference would be marked…And we will see.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009--Hamburg, Germany

Today was a warm up day for our cycle trip from Hamburg to Venice. I began at the White Sands Hotel with a modified Full Irish Breakfast. What that means simply is that I did not take any of the selection of cereal and went past most of the fruit. And I declined the black pudding and the bacon, while accepting the eggs, toast, rolls, sausage and juice. When the Irish use the word full to describe what they eat in the morning, they mean it…But it may not be the best for the start of a day that will involve some cycling.

After breakfast I took a 30 minute ride on the 102 Dublin City Bus from the hotel back to the airport, where I picked up my bike from Left Luggage and made my way to the waiting area for check-in for the flight to Hamburg. My friend Brian arrived a few minutes later, with his bike in a rather disheveled box and the tickets. Checking in was easy, the walk to the gate not long, and the standing in a queue to board the plane, while in a lounge adequate for about one third the number of people who were in it, was not bad. Once we took off, the flight from Dublin to Hamburg was quick (1 ½ hours) and uneventful, although it involved sharing a three seat row with not only Brian but also the largest person I have ever sat next to on a plane. It must have been uncomfortable to him, particularly,

We arrived in Hamburg around 3:30, and made our way to luggage and collected our bikes. Once in our hands it took about a half an hour to unpack them and put the pieces that had to be disassembled to satisfy the airlines and fit in the box back together. That is always a task that begins any trip, and it was not unpleasant as the luggage hall was fairly deserted for most of the process. The last of the preparation was changing into cycling clothes in the restroom and abandoning the boxes they had come in. I always feel a bit awkward just leaving a large cardboard container in a restroom, but there is no alternative—the boxes hold the bike well but the bike would not do well carting the box around.

As we walked our bikes out of the terminal I turned on the gps I have brought with me, and it soon synced in with strong satellite signals and Ken’s voice calmly directed us to turn right. From that point on, and with great faith in Ken and the gps, Brian and I wound our way through the streets of Hamburg, a city of 1.8 million people, the second largest of all German cities. You could navigate without a gps, but in an urban area of this size, it sure helped…


After just 19 flat miles, a distance pre-set based on the arrival time of our flight and the desire to just get out of the city on our first day, we made our destination--a small hotel that I had booked over the internet. The hotel backs onto a canal that is part of the Elbe River system, and caters to travelers of all kinds—cyclists, motorists, walkers and barge enthusiasts. It has a beer garden on the riverbank and one of the strangest pear trees I have ever seen (looks almost like the pears have been hung on the tree like Christmas ornaments).

The room is clean and simple, and because the restaurant specializes in Croatian cuisine, along with the local brew I had a dish consisting of mince (hamburger in US) stuffed with a white sharp cheese, which was more than enough.

In short, everything looks good. All is well and I am grateful to God for the good beginning which he has given us…

Tuesday, September 1, 2009--Dubin, Ireland

This will be the first entry in this blog about adventures that are upcoming in the next three months. The first entries will be about a month long cycle trip that I am doing with my Northern Ireland friend, Brian. The next will be about a month long preaching and sharing time Nancy and I will have in Fermoy and Cahir, Ireland. The third will be a month in Albania, teaching at a Bible School in the town of Erseke, then preaching at a church in the capital, Tirana.

Yesterday at 6:30 pm I boarded a plane in Greensboro, North Carolina, I then sped through an airport in Philadelphia, and landed in Dublin, Ireland, at 7:30 am the next day, that is today, Tuesday. There’s really not much to write about an overnight airplane flight, except to say that it is over with. Not too painful, but not something to look forward to with much eagerness.

When I arrived in Dublin I was half expecting that the most necessary piece of luggage I had checked, indeed the only piece, would not arrive with me. Since that is a bicycle, and the plan is to begin cycling in Germany tomorrow, its absence would present a serious problem. That happened once a couple years ago, when Richal, Brian and I had a cycling trip from Milan to Amsterdam all planned out. Their trusty steeds arrived but mine did not. In fact the airline did not finally get the bike into my hands until I had suffered the ignominy of having to take the train through the Alps to Switzerland, while the others earned boasting rights by cycling the route. But this time, while I had already seen all the rest of the luggage spewed out onto the conveyer belt, and I had obtained the proper forms from Lost Luggage, my anxiety was allayed as a smiling baggage handler brought the bike to me. Do I qualify for the saying, Oh, you man of little faith. Or for being wise in learning from past experience...???


Before leaving the States I had made a reservation in a hotel for this first night. I meet Brian tomorrow but, with schedules as they are and knowing the possibility of some baggage problem, I have decided that a day of margin (and rest) is a good idea at the beginning of a trip. I had looked at hotels at the airport, but decided instead on one that was easily reached by public transportation, was in a more interesting location than an airport flight path, and which, given the high prices of airport hotels, was more reasonable. So after checking my bike in the Left Luggage counter at the airport, where I will recover it tomorrow, I hopped on the Dublin City Bus #102 and in 30 minutes, and after some nice conversation with local fellow travelers, I was deposited at the front door of the White Sands Hotel in Portmarnoch. Since it was only around 10 am I had planned on leaving my luggage at the hotel and walking around the area, but the desk clerk found a room for me that was already cleaned, and signed me into it.


Portmarnoch is just south of Malahide, the site of one of the great estates and castles of Ireland, Malahide Castle. It is on the east coast of Ireland, a short distance north of Dublin, and boasts exceptional sandy beaches. The hotel is just across the road from the beach, and my room gazes out on a sandy shoreline, several small islands, and the waters that separate the large islands of Great Britain and Ireland, the Irish Sea. It is gorgeous…

As soon as I had put my luggage down in my room I headed out and walked the beach for an hour to stretch my legs after the long travel. A local supermarket provided the ingredients for a light lunch, then a short nap and then three more hours of walking—along the beaches, up to Malahide, to the castle tea room (closed when I arrived), and who knows where else (at times I certainly had no idea where I was). The newspaper announced today that this summer has been the wettest summer in record in some parts of Ireland. All parts got lots of rain, but some beat records kept since 1866. And the paper added that the Irish will hope in vain for any improvement in the month ahead. But today was wonderful. Not cold, scattered clouds, lots of sun and no rain at all. A perfect welcome to this Yankee and a great start to this adventure.


Tomorrow I meet Brian at the airport at 10:30 and we head off for Hamburg, our starting point. Our plan is to go south about 1,000 miles, finally flying out of Venice, Italy on the 25th. We will follow rivers, go through Bavaria, experience Austria and climb the Alps or Dolomites, possibly through both Italy and Slovenia. I marvel at the grace of God who gives me such opportunities, and look forward to what he has to teach me along the way through the places, people and experiences. Those lessons are what each of have the opportunity to learn every day, not just while on trips like this but wherever we are and whatever we encounter. The lessons are there to learn, all we need to do is open our eyes and our hearts and see…As the great hymn says, Open my eyes that I might see…

In the spring I was looking forward to spending the summer at our home in Greensboro. Being away so much of the time it just seemed like that would be good.

Now summer is moving towards an end and the goal has been reached. And it has been good. Not what I anticipated, but good…

First of all, the invitation to Nancy to be in Tajikistan for the month of July was not anticipated. But when the invitation came, it was clear that it was an opportunity not to be missed. So she went, as an English Language Specialist under the sponsorship of the US State Department. While I wasn’t there, I know she did a great job and the 30+ teachers she interacted with gained a great deal. She is really good at what she does!

DUSHANBE (Tajikistan) PHOTOS




Secondly, I did not anticipate that my big project would be painting our house. Nor did I anticipate it to be such a big project. But it was…For nearly the entire time of Nancy’s absence I was up on a ladder scraping, caulking, replacing a few rotting boards, and painting. Fortunately the weather was only mildly hot, and all went as well as I could imagine. And fortunately Nancy had picked out the paint colors before she left—so there was no surprise when she returned. And fortunately it looks great. I guess you could say I was good at what I did!

BEFORE and AFTER




Aside from these two major changes, the summer was as I had envisioned. Lots of wonderful time with two grandchildren, doing everything from walking around our pond picking up trash to playing in parks to trips to Home Depot to Vacation Bible School (I was Samuel Swampus) to short sojourns in the bike trailer. I also preached a bit, joined Salem Presbytery and finished up on the class I was teaching in Mexico. Plus many nights watching the Mariners games on MLB.com—usually with one day’s delay and projected onto the blank wall that is left sans decoration for that purpose in our living room.

Now we begin the next chapter. In a couple days we (Nancy, Emily, Steve, Colette, Jacques and I) leave for Oregon and Washington—to attend the wedding of Nancy’s brother and to make a quick visit to friends and family in Seattle. Three days after this I fly to Dublin to rendezvous with my friend Brian and begin a month long cycle trek from Hamburg, Germany to Venice Italy. Two days after that Nancy and I will be in Ireland where I begin a month of preaching and pasturing in Ireland (Fermoy and Cahir). Then to Albania for a month teaching in Erseke and preaching in Tirana…

Once again I am reminded that life is lived in chapters. Each chapter has a beginning and an ending, and each has its own story. And once again I am grateful to God for the chapters in my life. They are varied, with opportunities and obstacles, happy times and difficulties, but they are always good. And God’s grace is in each of them. Life with Christ is truly an adventure.

Psalm 106:1 Praise the LORD. Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

Nancy is headed towards Tajikistan, to assist the English as a Foreign Language teachers in that country in teaching methodology. Lest anyone wonder whether or not she is qualified to do this, look here...

Then, if you wonder whether or not I can be clever also, try this...

2 Timoteo, Parte 1

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This past Friday Nancy and I spent touring Caswell County, an area just north and east of us. Our host was raised in the area and has spent quite a bit of time studying its history. In the short time we were together Nancy and I learned much…
First, a couple terms that we had to get clear. The Boom Times were between 1830 and 1850. At that time the county was one of the richest in the state, with its agricultural base and plantation system. During that period many of the notable people who helped shape North Carolina history lived, worked, built mansions, and influenced from Caswell County. The other is that what I have usually known as the Civil War is, in this part of the country, known as the War Between the States…
Coming from the west coast, where the land is awesome but the history is less so (besides the Native American strand, which is another story), this area may lack the dramatic scenery but it has much more history. And Caswell County has history to the extreme.



One of the first sites we stopped at was an empty field. It was not that impressive, until we learned that it was on that field that the Continental Army mustered as the British troops under General Cornwallis marched northwards.

Just across the road from that field stands an old classic Boom Times home. Lined across the front lawn is a series of stone pillars—they marked the route of the stagecoach line from Charlotte north…Then there was the oldest building still standing that had served as a general store. Not sure of the date but the Revolutionary War soldiers had shopped in it…


As General Cornwallis moved north he had hoped that the settlers would come to the aid of the British, but that did not happen en masse. One of the reasons he discovered was that the Presbyterians had established churches and that the pastors were literate, and had encouraged parishioners to read. Nothing as dangerous as an educated populace. The first of those pastors to move south from Virginia had founded a Presbyterian church in 1756, and Cornwallis had as one his missions the capture and execution of that pastor. Unfortunately for the British, the pastor died just a week or two before their troops arrived in the area, which left them only two alternatives to exercise—they burned his library and exhumed his body, just to be sure it was he…We visited that church and saw his burial place….

And we also looked on the place behind the church where a runaway slave who had been sold as a child because his father was the plantation owner and his wife did not like his presence. He had escaped from the new owner, hidden himself and been fed by his mother before being discovered and returned to his owner. The story goes on that he ran away again and made his way to England…



Then there was the Caswell County Courthouse, an impressive historic building with a checkered historic past. It was there in 1870 that Chicken Stephens, an advocate of rights for freed slaves, a Republican state senator, the Justice of the Peace, and a representative of the governor, was called out of a legislative session, ushered into a side room, and murdered by the Klan. It was also there that a slave woman was being tried for practicing medicine without a license. The judge knew that what she was doing was serving as a local midwife, and heaped praise on her while throwing the charge out of court and setting her free…


The landscape is dotted with notable buildings that represent the wealth of the Boom Times. There are ornate mansions with grand entrances, such as the one in the picture here. And there are the interesting ones, such as the other more modest structure with two front doors. Seemed a bit unusual until our host informed us that it was fairly traditional to have such an arrangement, and that the function was to provide an exit for guests sleeping on one side of the house who did not want to awaken their hosts in case they had to make a late night visit to the privy…


Caswell County is now the second poorest county in North Carolina. History brought dramatic changes, and the county declined in wealth and importance. But it is an interesting place to visit and the history is one that says much about our country—the good and the bad. It was fascinating to see and reflect on. It makes one think about the legacy they will leave behind, what it builds to and how it will be judged. It reminds me of the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the wise and the foolish builder, and the call to build on the rock, the words of Jesus himself. (Matthew 7:24-27).

I am sitting on our side patio, looking at our back yard-pond, while the sun is setting behind me. It has been a full day, just part of a full week. Just over a week ago Nancy and I were in Shoreline, sharing with good friends. Now we are back in Greensboro, North Carolina…and thinking about Tajikistan.

While we were away one of the large trees in our back yard succumbed to gravity. I have felled several trees in my life, particularly going “wooding” while living in Clarkston, but this tree fell as perfectly as possible. It was growing about one foot from our neighbor’s fence—and it fell in a perfect line, staying one foot away. No damage at all, despite its massive size and weight. And now it is stacked neatly alongside the fence waiting to dry out for the winter’s fires. Cutting it up was part of yesterday.




Another part of yesterday was our annual neighborhood association meeting. Last time I attended, along with about 6 others, and was elected to the board. Not a hotly contested race nor a position that I particularly wanted. But someone had to do it. This year more people attended the meeting and in the end I left with the enviable title of president. Again, not hotly contested nor desired. I told the people that I would only be in the country half the time—but that seemed to bother no one. In fact impending absence may have been a bonus. Our neighborhood is a stable and pretty trouble-free one, so I was assured that the demands on my time would be minimal. But who knows. The biggest hassle in the years I have been here has been a shed that was built in a resident’s back yard (it was approved by the architectural committee, so was fine) and an above-ground pool in another back yard (it was not approved and will have to be removed). Why I have this position is yet to be seen, but God may just use it as a way of getting to know people. Nancy has already started the getting to know ritual with weekly Monday tea for all who want, now maybe I can do my part…

Yesterday Nancy and I also went to a PCUSA Board of Pension information meeting. I learned that despite a 28+% loss in the retirement portfolio last year, all is stable and secure for all needs. Kind of nice to know, and pretty rare in these economic times. We also met some very interesting people and hope to get to know some of them better in the months ahead. Retired Presbyterian pastors actually are an interesting bunch—lots of years of faithful service at home and abroad. Each has a story and they are good ones. The cloud of witnesses of which Hebrews speaks is real in these people.

Today was dentist then a couple hours with Colette. Walking up to get a cookie at Subway (for her), a coffee at Starbucks (for me), then a bit of fruit at the local market (for both of us). What a fun time for grandpa! Colette's two day a week pre-school ends tomorrow, so my Tuesday and Thursday ritual of taking her to the school, picking her up, then going to Taco Bell will be done. But her parents are enrolling her in a Little Ninja class for part of the summer, so she will not be bored. The Ninja school shares space with a ballet school, but all adults who know Colette agree that the former fits her a lot better than the latter….

After that Nancy and I mortared the stones in our back patio—something that the landscapers had neglected to do when they put it in. Took all afternoon but it will make the place much more usable. And since that is where the sandbox is, it will make all much better.

And in the meantime Nancy learned that she has been offered a position teaching teachers in Tajikistan for the month of July. About 12 hours after she submitted her interest and CV to the US governmental agency that finds people to respond to requests from countries around the world, they contacted her. And 24 hours later it looks like it is going to happen—Tajikistan. It should be a grand adventure, and she will be great at it. Now her two government sponsored assignments have been Albania and Tajikistan. I challenge anyone to tell a friend where in the world those two places are. But God has a plan for it all…

Enough rambling. The Psalmist says, Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. That is certainly what we have found out in life, and what we continue to experience. And his actions are pretty amazing adventures. Don’t let anyone tell you that following Christ is boring!

One month ago I was in Merida, Mexico, sharing in the life and ministry of El Seminario Teologico Presbiteriano San Pablo. Today I am in Shoreline, Washington. The time between has been filled with two weeks back home in Greensboro with the family, punctuated by the greatest celebration in history, the Easter celebration, that is the celebration of the resurrection of the Son of God.



It contained a week at Mt. Hermon with 180 other pastors, sharing lives and hearing challenging messages at a conference that has continued for 37 years. Then there were a few short days in San Francisco with daughter JJ, seeing her new apartment and learning more about her Netflix work. Finally there has been a week of travel up the west coast, visiting friends and family and arriving in Shoreline to spend a few days renewing relationships, visiting my mother and sister, and enjoying sights and sounds that were our home for twenty years.


Through the month the outstanding reminder has been of God’s goodness in both relationships and in creation. It is an awesome privilege to have relationships with other pastors which have spanned the entire length of my church ministry life. The West Coast Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference began with a small group of us, young in ministry, covenanting together to meet eight days after Easter. We arranged speakers, a place, and an agenda, and fulfilled the covenant. And we have been doing the same for all these years. In the span of time the conference has been going on we have shared joys and tragedies, celebrated signs of the power of God in our various places of ministry, and prayed over those places in which that power seemed so far away. It has been a rare place, a rare experience, and priceless relationships, and I am so thankful to God for it.



And the same is true of other people Nancy and I have visited in the past few weeks. A friend from high school (we have hardly changed, of course), family and partners in ministry from Fresno, Clarkston and Shoreline. Again it is the relationships of life and serving which bind us together, and for which I am so thankful.
Then there is the beauty. We live in an amazingly beautiful country! The rains of the spring have brought life to hills and colors to fields, clearly reflecting the beauty and design of God.


Nancy and I have driven from the valleys of California to the valleys of Oregon, from the redwoods of the Santa Cruz mountains to the glacial moraine of the Wallowas, from Mt. Shasta to Mt. Rainier. Up and over and down Rattlesnake Grade, into the Snake River Valley, then across the plains of eastern Washington and through the Cascades. The variety of scenes, the beauty of the scenery, and the grandeur of the land is amazing, and Nancy and I are so grateful to be able to soak it in.


In a few days we will return to Greensboro to spend the summer. Then, God willing, on to adventures cycling and serving in various parts of Europe. But for now the time is a time for relishing in the gifts of people who mean so much to us and a country that does as well. It is a time for praising and giving thanks, for enjoying and sharing. It is a time to remember the words of the Psalmist, Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name…(Psalm 103:1)

Rain at home in Greensboro…rain and snow where we used to live, in Seattle…And yesterday here in Merida it was 103.3 degrees…Interesting.

And even in that heat (which I like) I can take a break from the computer and the classes I am teaching, get out and pedal away—especially when I know that part of the ride will be interrupted by a swim in our local cenote. Diving through a hole in the earth into cool clear water, and splashing around in a cave that is part of an underground river which is wending its way through limestone tunnels. There is little or no current in the water, as there are no mountains in the Yucatan, but I wonder where the deep tunnel that the cave disappears into goes…There is a sport called cave diving. It is a variation of scuba diving only it follows these underground rivers and caves. I have no interest at all, but you can’t help wondering how far you would have to swim to get to the next cavern. Probably farther than you could hold your breath, which is why I don’t even consider trying…


Last weekend I went to Cozumel, the largest island of Mexico. Just off the coast of the Mayan Riviera, south of Cancun, it is one of my favorite places in the world. It is very different from Cancun, at least at night when the cruise ships have left the dock and are moving towards their next port. The island has a history and an ethos that even its tourist industry can not completely erase. More family oriented, more slow paced, not as crazy as Cancun.



I spent just two nights there in a small hotel. Sat on the waterfront and ate a hamburger I bought from a street vendor on the corner. I spent the afternoon I was there scuba diving in one of the finest reef complexes in the world. Manta ray, lobster, eels, and countless brilliant colored fish carrying on with their lives in the underwater world, moving effortlessly in and around the towering coral columns, make diving surreal and serene.


Driving back to Merida I noticed several highway signs of a type that has sometimes got me thinking. The sign can often be found on a lonely stretch of highway, all by itself. It reads No Maltrate las Señales, which translated means Don’t Mistreat the Signs. A reasonable enough message, but one which is a little odd when it is on the only sign for miles. If the sign were not there there would be no signs to mistreat. Makes me wonder…


Back at the seminary I am finishing up my final week of classes, as I head back home Friday. The class load has not been great, one on Paul’s writings and another on Preaching, but I also accepted a Friday 4 hour class which added a bit. Operating in Spanish is something I enjoy, but I am all too aware of my limitations and it is stretching to do it all the time. The most challenging part of my teaching here has been attempting to put some of what I am doing online. In fact the plan as of today is to continue teaching the class on Paul’s writings from home in the United States, all by internet. If it were just a matter of technical production that would be one thing, but putting the written in Spanish and posting it, then doing an audio component in Spanish that is basically a summary of the class sessions, that is really a challenge. And it adds to the sense of limitations as it puts what I do, with all its limitations and errors, out for the world to evaluate…

I guess one of the things I have learned is that God does not use the best or most well trained, just the most willing. We do not have to be great, but we have to be available. And when we are, it is up to God to take what we can offer and turn it into something of use to the kingdom. I have come to realize that to not do something because we know we can not do it as well as some others is a form of arrogance. Excellence is a good thing, but availability is an even better thing…So we give what we can and put it in the hands of God. I suppose even Isaiah may not have been the best and most qualified person for the job of prophet, but he was the one who said, Here am I. Send me. He was available and look at what God did through him...

Yesterday I took a bike ride, as I often do. But this time I stopped along the way to take some photos just to show you what it is like around here…My journey covered just over 20 miles—a couple miles more than a typical distance, but not unusual.
I left the Legters’ home, where I am staying, and went out past the seminary onto the road to Dzitya, a stone and wood artisan’s town about 2 miles east of the seminary gate. I went through Dzitya onto a road heading towards Kochen, past a cement plant and two small villages. On the edge of one of the villages is a cenote that I stopped to swim in a couple days ago, but did not this time. After just under 10 miles I turned around and retraced my steps through Dzitya and past some fancy homes, but kept going a few hundred yards when I came to the seminary gate and rode into a sub-development called Las Americas. Down the street I went, past the small strip mall to the Oxxo store, where I was disappointed to find that the KFreeze machine was not working. From there it was back to the seminary, past the SKY satellite television kiosk that sits at the entrance to the development and past Blas Pascal, a school started by a local Presbyterian Church. I maneuvered through two sets of Topes (tarmac ridges or steel bumps strategically placed on the road to slow traffic), back to the Legters. The temperature was around 90 and the ride was wonderful…Just a little report on what it is like around this place where God has put me for these two months…