Eastern Sectional Council

Today I had the pleasure of attending the Eastern Sectional Council wearing many hats: an Eastern section minister, a missionary in need of support, but most importantly, a member of Pasadena Assembly of God, who was hosting the event.

I got to be a part of the meal planning, adding my input based on having attended a few other councils at other churches. Afterward, I got to be a part of the clean-up crew. I felt proud that my church represented itself so well to all the visiting pastors. A lot of work went into making sure the building was sparkling, the decorations were pleasantly attractive, and the food was superb! I heard nothing but positive comments from all the pastors--the cream of crab soup was great! The chocolate fountain was wonderful! The new Family Life Center was very useful building! Our church secretary is worth her weight in gold! It just went on and on.

I appreciate how much effort the church staff and volunteers went through to host this meeting and luncheon!

Easter morning

Matthew 28

The Resurrection

1After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

2There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

5The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. 6He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

8So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. 10Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

The Guards' Report

11While the women were on their way, some of the guards went into the city and reported to the chief priests everything that had happened. 12When the chief priests had met with the elders and devised a plan, they gave the soldiers a large sum of money, 13telling them, "You are to say, 'His disciples came during the night and stole him away while we were asleep.' 14If this report gets to the governor, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble." 15So the soldiers took the money and did as they were instructed. And this story has been widely circulated among the Jews to this very day.

The Great Commission

16Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. 17When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18Then Jesus came to them and said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

The trip that wasn't

Well, folks, in one of life's odd coincidences, I was unable to fly to France today AGAIN.

I was all ready with my tickets and luggage, flying Northwest all the way this time (no more Delta--see last post). When I arrived at the airport, skies here in Baltimore were absolutely cloudless; I breathed a sigh of relief that no weather was going to hinder my trip today. I didn't count on a snowstorm in Michigan, however.

My flight to Detroit (the major Northwest hub) was delayed, and as I waited near the gate, the gate attendant began making a series of announcements, each one more dire than the previous:

• "Due to a massive snowstorm in Grand Rapids, the Detroit airport is handling all the air traffic being re-routed from Michigan. This means that all flights in Detroit are being delayed due to overflow. Your flight will be delayed at least one hour."
• "For those of you who have connecting flights from Detroit, there is a possibility that your flight will be re-routed to Indianapolis, because Detroit cannot handle all of the current air traffic. If this occurs, it will probably be decided mid-flight. If you are unable to handle this type of stress, we recommend that you rebook your flight now. "
  
• "We are making the Northwest phone number available, so that you can call from here at the gate and make your booking options easily without waiting in line at the counter." (number flashed on the screens nearby)
• "We do not yet know the exact time of departure, but if you have connections before 7:30 pm or that approximate time, you will probably need to be rebooked onto other flights. We can assist you with that now."
  

Listening to all that that, I decided I would not make my connection and being stuck in Indianapolis trying to get to France didn't sound like a good option at all. I chose to get in line at the gate counter, but also to call Northwest on my cell phone while I waited. By the time I got an actual operator on the line, I was nearly to the counter, but the lady was very patient. She could book me all the way through to Bordeaux, but I would arrive late Saturday night. Since I was already worried about only have three days to do all my work in France, I asked about rebooking the entire flight--perhaps in May. She said it was no problem to give me a full refund for the current booking (take that, Delta!) and processed it immediately. The lady at the counter offered (on her own initiative) to call down to baggage and make sure that my luggage would be offloaded.

The luggage still presented a bit of a problem, being somewhere with all the other Detroit bags. I waited down at the baggage carousel for an hour and a half, until I was finally told, regretfully that my bags had gone on to Detroit. For the time I spent waiting, I was given three $25 vouchers, good for reductions on my next Northwest ticket. I didn't ask for them; I was just handed them by the polite lady who handled my claim forms.

Having ranted about my frustrations with Delta the other night, I couldn't help but compare the two experiences: Northwest kept us informed nearly minute by minute of all the important facts about the Detroit flight. They provided information proactively, so that we could feel some measure of power in our own hands for the rebooking. Their gate attendants and ticket counter personnel were cheerful and anticipated my needs before I asked. They offered me vouchers worth money or miles, merely for having "lost" my bags. Northwest has made a loyal customer out of me!

Delta's Unfriendly Skies

When I was a teenager studying literature in high school, I remember the teacher telling us that Charles Dickens had been a court stenographer as a young man. His genius for sketching such realistic characters came from his keen observations of human nature, playing out before him every day in court.

I often think of this when I travel, because I feel that public transportation offers the kind of glimpse into human character that would have sent Dickens into raptures of delight. I like to sit in airports at the gates facing the wide walkways, just observing the various types of people that walk by--their stance and gait, their accents, their conversations on cell phones, their manner of talking to their children, and especially their behavior with airline employees!

When I got to the airport at 4:00 pm, I was hoping to leave at 5:45 pm, but I learned shortly that due to rain, our flight would be delayed until about 7:00 pm. I was thankful that I had a four hour layover in New York, so I wasn't as frustrated as other passengers. The Delta area was way backed up, with all sorts of flights delayed by a few hours. Nearly everyone around me in the gate area was angry over one flight or another.

7 pm came and went and we hadn't heard anything. At 7:10 pm, the gate attendant announced that the plane had arrived and was being loaded, cleaned, refueled, etc. and we would begin boarding shortly. I rose to stand, figuring I would be sitting for while on the flight. I stood there and stood there. Finally, at almost 8:00 pm, the gate attendant announced that our flight had been canceled. Just like that. Canceled.

Apparently, with the delay, the flight crew was past their allowed hours to be "on duty" or "in the air." Delta would need a whole new flight crew and there were so few of us on the flight, they just canceled it.

All of us were aggravated, especially those who were just passing through Baltimore, but I was mostly concerned about the rest of my connections--from New York to Amsterdam to Bordeaux. How was I going to make it all the way to Bordeaux? When I went to the Delta ticket counter, I discovered a glaring problem: my entire flight was booked through Northwest and KLM in partnership. They booked me on only ONE Delta flight, which had just been canceled. The Delta representative was nice, but unhelpful: Delta doesn't fly to Bordeaux, so there wasn't much he could do. He gave me a bunch of flight numbers on a piece of notepaper and told me I would have to call KLM/Northwest to ask about other flights.

I had been very accomodating until that point. After all, it wasn't the ticket agent's fault that the flight was canceled. But there was no way that I was going home to call KLM/Northwest, with no proof of anything. I told the ticket agent it was Delta's responsibility to arrange those flights, not mine. Another thirty minutes passed while I listened to him argue with KLM personnel on his phone. He was frustrated; I was frustrated. Finally, he gave me some flight choices, leaving on Friday afternoon putting me into France on Saturday at noon.

Now, to do the math, I'm losing a day and a half of time to work on a business trip that was already only five days long. I'm losing money for the rental car that I've reserved and can't change without a penalty (because it's within 24 hours now). My family had to make special arrangements to pick me up at the airport tonight, as well as drive me back on Friday. For all of this inconvenience, I was compensated ZERO dollars. I was upgraded on ZERO flights. I was offered ZERO air miles on a perks plan. I was offered NOTHING but the "sincere apologies" of Delta.

I insisted that I speak to the ticket agent's superior, who did nothing. She just repeated her apologies. I told her flat out that I considered it the worst customer service that I'd ever seen. She apologized again. I told her that I would never fly Delta again. She apologized. I walked out to my father's truck five hours after my mom dropped me off, with nothing to show for the whole affair, except that, by that point, I finished the novel I was going to read on the plane. As far as I'm concerned, Delta owes me something for that, too!

Leavin' On a Jet Plane

All my bags are packed; I'm ready to go.

Updates

For those of you wondering what I do on the days I'm not blogging:

Today I'm preparing to leave for France tomorrow afternoon for five days of business. I've been trying to work ahead of myself by lining up some appointments by phone, so my days there will be productive. I will be staying in my old office building; apparently, since I've been gone, they've converted an extra office into a "crash pad" with a bed and a shower. It seems strange to think of staying overnight in the building where I used to work everyday, but hey, it's free!

My aunt Kate is in the hospital and I would like to have been able to visit her today, but it just didn't work out, with all the stuff I wanted to get done before my trip. Mom, Granny, Sarah, and Olivia went to visit and cheer her up. She's suffering from vertigo and the doctors have not yet found the cause. Please keep her in your prayers.

I've got a big page of Arabic homework, which is taking up increasingly more of my time. We have quizzes every week, and they are getting more and more difficult. We've learned at least 50 nouns, about 20 adjectives, a few verbs in the first person, and lots of possessive constructions. All that means that I can now form sentences like, "He is my professor. His house is very big. His book is in the library of his house. I have a house. My house is small. I do not have a library, but I have an office in my house." Sounds brilliant, doesn't it? On Sunday I found a card with the Lord's Prayer in Arabic stuck between some pages of my Bible, and I could read the entire thing. More importantly, I understood four words! So the Arabic progresses. We have a mid-term coming up that is going to be scary!

I'm still contacting pastors, whether nailing down dates for services, or following up on promises of support. My support continues to increase, although it feels slow sometimes; I know everything is coming together.

For those of you who are reading this blog faithfully, I appreciate your prayers and your encouragement. Not every day is a "funny" day where I can amuse you with my sometimes comic lifestyle, but I know that you care about the serious days, too.

While the Sun Shines

The beautiful weather today was energizing. I always feel invigorated on sunny days, and our glimpse into spring encourages me to get out in the yard and play with my niece, walk the dogs, or do some needed yard work.

Since Mom was babysitting Olivia, my middle niece, we went outside for a good walk just before lunch time around the yard to pet the horses and back. It was so pleasant that we started to get out the Little Tikes yard toys that were garaged for the the winter. Livvy was in her element; she even got a long ride around on the wagon. We were having such a good time, that when my sister returned from her appointment, we told her to get my grandmother and bring her over to our house to enjoy the sunshine and Livvy's backyard enthusiasm. Granny mostly just sits in her house complaining about how bored and lonely she is, so here was a perfect opportunity to get out and have some fun.

It turned out to be more fun than she anticipated!

Mom's been wanting to haul away some debris (from our home renovations) to the dump, and with the nice weather, we figured we could load up the pickup truck while Livvy played in the yard. We started tossing pieces of old paneling and chunks of crumbled concrete into the bed of the truck, joking that my grandmother, sitting in her chair, was our job foreman. Getting it loaded is a two-person job, and that's only half done. There's still the unloading at the dump. Mom and I felt bad that Granny was really enjoying herself and here we were about to leave, so we piled her into the middle of our mini-pickup and took her with us!

She had the difficult middle spot, with her knees up near her chin; she's so petite, its better her than us! She had a bag full of envelopes--my 300+ newsletters to go out--on her lap until we could find a big mailbox. We all had to suck in to shut the doors, but we managed, and then we were off. At the dump, Mom and I unloaded the wood, while Granny sat in the truck listening to a bluegrass CD. We pulled down to the concrete section and started heaving out the chunks. Some were large, but many were softball sized. At the concrete area, a huge mudpuddle had formed with recent rains, so tossing in the chunks made a very satisfying splash. I called to Granny to come help, which earned me her "are-you-kidding-me?" face. But she climbed out the truck and started throwing the concrete balls into the mudpuddle. I'm pretty sure she even thought it was fun. We joked about the dump employees thinking we brought our 80 year old Granny to do heavy work, which made her laugh.

We had to squeeze ourselves in the truck again, but we were having such a good time, it wasn't hard. Our family has a long tradition--nearly 30 years--that dump runs are followed by a Frosty from Wendy's, mostly because there is a Wendy's right across the street from the Glen Burnie landfill. (When we were little kids, Dad would let us get a Frosty as a treat when we went to the dump with him, and for the longest time, our unsuspecting mom wondered why we were always so eager to go to the disgusting dump.) We stopped to get Frosty's today to reward my grandmother for her hard work, and headed home to eat lunch and have our Frosty dessert. Mom had changed the CD to a classic hymn collection and the hymn, "No, Not One" came on. My grandmother started to sing along quietly in her deep throaty voice, "Jesus knows all about our troubles," and Mom started singing a soft harmony, "He will guide 'til the day is done." I sang a higher harmony, "There's not a friend like the lowly Jesus. No, not one. No, not one."

I think my grandmother really enjoyed herself. I know I did.

News . . . News . . . News . . .

I'm working on my newsletter, which if all goes well, you should be receiving at your churches by next week (before Easter, at any rate). Leaving for France next week has given me exactly the impetus I needed to attack my "to-do" list. I want to get as many things finished before I go as I can--less to do when I get back, exhausted from double jet-lag!

Next up: financial reports and then taxes!

Yesterday was the Eastern Shore sectional council. Eastern Shore is one of my favorite sections, even though its small and widespread geographically. I have a lot of respect for the E.S. pastors, because the churches seem to struggle for some reason. I think it takes a determined pastor to do good work there. Most of the churches there support me, so I feel a strong connection built on many visits to the churches and shared newsletters. Plus, as a native Marylander, what's not to love about the Shore? As I said yesterday to the pastors, the Eastern Shore represents the "history and the heart of the State of Maryland."

Procrastination

Does anyone else out there procrastinate?

I don't do it all the time, but there are certain things that I just dread. I'll put them off for days, not because they're difficult, or because I'm not capable of doing them, but because of the "what if?" factor.

For example, what if I ask that person for this favor and they say no?

Then, of course, once I buckle down and make myself do it, I get a positive response 99% of the time, and I'm thrilled. I think, "What was I so worried about?" A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

This week, I'm making phone calls to France, trying to line up all the details of the business I have to take care of in the five days that I'll be there at the end of this month. I need to sell my furniture at a furniture consignment store, and that means I need them to pick up the stuff in a large truck. I need to close out my bank account, signing whatever forms that involves. I'm still waiting on the return of my security deposit for my apartment. All of these small things require phone calls to track down the right person who takes care of these details. For some reason I just keep avoiding these phone calls.

In other news . . . I'm headed to the beautiful Eastern Shore today for the next sectional council. I'm looking forward to connecting with some good pastor friends there.

A Team Player

Several months ago, I was at a luncheon for pastors in the Capitol Virginia section, and I heard a pastor tell another missionary, "It looks like we're going to be able to pledge support for you." He was grinning when he said it, knowing that he was probably making that missionary's day.

Then to my surprise, the missionary responded, "I appreciate it, but we've raised our pledge budget already. But, say, see that guy over there?" pointing to another missionary in the room, "He really needs the pledges right now. He only has a few months left before he has to leave, and I know he really needs it. He's just starting out!"

I was so surprised by his generosity; he was willing to give away the money that a pastor was offering to him to another missionary who he felt had a greater need. I couldn't help but think, "Here is a missionary who knows how to trust God." He knew that God would provide what he himself needed, so he wasn't worried about giving away a blessing to someone else.

I admit, in my heart that day, I wasn't so sure that I could have be so selfless. Each missionary is given a budget that we are required to raise, both cash and pledges for future support. Sometimes when the money is slow to come in, you can start to take it personally: What am I doing wrong? Why don't the churches like me? They must like Missionary X better, because look how much money they gave him! That church told me that didn't have any money in their budget, but they just gave another missionary a commitment for a lot of support. It's not fair.

One can easily get sidetracked into thinking that money= approval or that money being raised equals a "good missionary." But God has repeatedly proven to me, and probably all the other missionaries, that He alone is my source--not pastors, not churches, not good friends, not family. They are often the vessel He uses, and I'm thankful for them, but ultimately, its always His provision. I get what I need when I need it, and because of His grace, I have almost always had more than I need.

In the past few months, I've learned to relax about the fund-raising part of my furlough. I know that I am acting in obedience to God, so He will take care of my money. He knows who can give, and He knows how and when it will happen. I trust Him to bring it all together.

Because of this other's missionary's example that day, I have also tried to be a "team player" looking out for those who have a greater need, or perhaps a more pressing need than I do. Just this week, I got the chance to recommend that a few churches give support to a missionary friend who is desperate to reach his final goal in the last few weeks of his itineration. I felt a real joy in knowing that God used me to help someone else and He'll use others to help me.

Why I'm enjoying my furlough . . .

Its a Small World After All

Not long ago, I ran into a pastor that I've known for years. He was working with youth and I'd seen him at camp, and his church was supporting me for quite a while. When I saw him, he told me that he had changed churches; now he's the senior pastor about an hour south of my home. He booked me for a service and I didn't give it much thought, until a few weeks ago, when I ran into a girl who had been at Valley Forge when I was in college.

I didn't know Monica well, but she married a friend of mine, Steve. As it turned out, Steve and Monica go to the church in Southern Maryland where my friend is now pastoring. I was happy to make that little connection, and I was looking forward to seeing them on the day that I would speak at their church.

Finally, it was the weekend for that service, and as I was preparing to leave, my dad told me that Brenda and Jimmy, a young couple who used to attend my church years ago, also go to the church where my friend is now pastoring. Not only did I get to see them and talk to them, I got the chance to hear their son sing a special number for the offering.

It was really nice to connect with old friends and people who have shared significance in my life at different times.