I am distracted with pondering and peeling.  Can summaries of home life and current agendas connect people?  Maybe.  After lunch I can type out a bridge of words that will draw me closer to many Dear Folk far away and give me the pleasure of knowing God’s delight.

When I cut open the avocado for lunch and found it sprouting, I temporarily abandoned lunch preparations.  Toothpicking the sides of the ready avocado pit so it half dipped in a cup of water, I held out a mild hope for another avocado tree in the yard years from now.  Back to lunch, my children and their friend ate toast with the homemade guacamole, while Ted and I put the guac’ on homemade tortillas with a bit of chicken and tomato and crushed red pepper.  It was 2 pm.

Lunch was late not only due to my distraction of trying to grow a tree, but also waiting on Ted who was busy forcing the house toward repaired status.  He was roto-rooting the slimy plumbing until the kitchen sink could drain like a waterfall with its own tornado.  Last week he built a shower into the room that had the bath and semi-automatic washing machine in it.  The new shower serves two purposes besides the obvious: one -it looks good with the pretty shower curtain brightening the whole room, and two- it allows us to incapacitate the other broken-down, duct-taped, mold-happy shower, in hopes of change.

In the last four weeks, we have seen many changes, even just on our property.  Our compound manager is leaving for a year furlough.  He and his wife will teach us how to be “compound manager” before they go. They have been working very hard, putting a lot of work into getting everything in good order.   Replaced are the rusted metal roofs over the storage containers.  Trimmed are the trees -a huge truck hauled away the trash heap in the far back of the property.  Young plants started a small vegetable garden for me, after the boys cleared and dug the earth (and disposed of the snake skin found there).  Anytime order is called out of chaos or void, I am reminded of Creation.

At OFM, Ted jumped onto a treadmill already at speed.  Together with a creative team of currently three other guys, he is in the middle of updating the next round of videos for homeward bound staff from the big missionary school (Rift Valley Academy). He is editing the weighty AIM Identity video which pushes the big picture forward and needs to be usable for the entire mission for years to come; he is prioritizing the Nomadic Peoples video next and planning when to tackle the editing of video shot late last Fall in Lesotho.  The video report on AIM’s Africa wide medical ministry also will continue to move forward.  We deeply appreciate prayers!

We continue to pray and plan for a schooling transition this Fall.  Collin and Jonathan are accepted at Rossalyn Academy.  Due to some tremendous and unexpected gifts, we now have half of what we need for this school year.  We are excited and a little nervous.  As the mommy, I admit I am glad Teah and Timmy will still be home.  But the power of change can make us look both forward and back, treasuring what we would otherwise take for granted.  Time is a treasure.  God is using it.     With love,      -Liisa

Sometimes, when we are called to obey, the fear does not subside, and we are expected to move against the fear.  One must choose to do it afraid. -Elizabeth Elliot.

This film, which was a collaboration of my shooting, Mikes writing, and Andy’s editing, has just been released, and it tells the story of missions in the hard places of Central Africa.  We are praying for a new generation of missionaries that are willing to go…willing to move against the fear.

-Ted

Homecoming.  Landing a month ago in Minneapolis, the place of my birth, I was the one coming home.  Sweet reunions, I hugged my mom, aunts, uncles, cousins, and dear friends.  It reminded me of when Ted travels, and I welcome him back to our beloved home in Nairobi, Kenya.

Homecoming Day, I drive to Nairobi’s big international airport on the edge of a gamepark.  For thirty minutes or an hour, traffic tries (successfully) to scare me on the wrong side of the road.   Sometimes I furiously scold in Swahili a crazy bus or “matatu.”  My children crane to look out minivan windows, blue eyes peeled on the sunny blue Kenya skies.  Is the jet just in view the one holding Daddy?  The kids never let me make that trip alone, even though it usually entails a long wait in a long room with no chairs anywhere, looking through long windows at customs and baggage.  The children compete for the first glimpse.  Then we all get our hugs in. The older boys wait for the stories as much as I do; they usually have a few of their own.  Teah’s first question can be counted on, “Did you bring me a present?”  Timmy just gets wider-eyed.

Ted comes home changed from each On Field Media trip, like he caught a deep breath and a more muscled grip on the mission’s vision:  Christ-centered churches among all African peoples.  The story of Jesus in each new context into which the team has taken a camera invigorates the pouring of his heart into the pictures, words, and story.   It pours out like prayers.  For me, the OFM team puts a face on Luke 10:1 & 2, a prayer to the Lord of the Harvest to send more workers.

When the men came home from Rwanda, another wife on the team volunteered the view from her house.  It matched what I was seeing in mine.  She said her husband’s spirit was heavy for 2-3 weeks after returning from Rwanda.  That country’s baggage came home in our husbands’ suitcases and hearts.  But later I met the missionary with whom OFM had worked on that trip to Rwanda.  He surprised me with something shocking like, “I hadn’t laughed that much in 2 years.  Your guys really encouraged us.”  God opened His unique swapmeet -the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.  Wow.  How awesome to be with Him in that.  We ourselves are encouraged and grateful for the supporters God has linked with us.  We gain happiness and fortitude from our support team’s sacrifice.

When Ted comes home, I brace myself for stories sure to break my heart, for the fresh need to care and pray.  The happy stories, the successes, the smiles and courage on African or missionary faces in video and photographs-  these press my senses almost as hard as sadness and terrific need.

It all reminds me so much of heaven:  reunions, embracing, the ultimate in stories, purpose, gladness, and being utterly shocked at how real it all is and what a gift.  August 1st an AIM Air crash took 2 of our mission family, Frank Toews and Ryan Williams.  A sudden departure and painful leaving.  But for Ryan and Frank, it was Homecoming.  Their move to Heaven, right in the middle of their work for the King, welcomes me again to know where Home really is.      Welcome HOME.

~Liisa

A little commercial I put together of the work of OFM.

The last 12 days have been some of the hardest that Liisa and I have experienced. On August 1st, an AIM AIR airplane, piloted by our friend Frank crashed into a building. Another friend, Ryan, was in the right seat. Kibera is a slum that is said to house over a million people. The rusted tin roofed shacks go on for miles it seems, with alleyways too narrow for even a small car to squeeze through. With no landing place at all, and practically every square foot inhabited, Kibera is one of the worst places in the world over which to lose power in an airplane. We may never know why, but thats what happened. Whether it was Frank’s focused skill, or the Father lifting the wings of the plane, somehow Frank managed to glide just beyond the perimeter of the slum and put the airplane down in an apartment complex where miraculously no one on the ground was even injured. Frank’s life was taken then, however. From the first moment of the horrific news we were with Frank’s family. Ryan’s life was taken almost a week later from injuries. Devastation again- everything seemed blurry, with only loss defined sharply.

I was asked by Frank’s wife to assemble a video tribute for the family. I spent days going through old photos and video footage, watching Frank as he poured his life into his family and work, and as he saw with clearer focus than I some of the important things in life.

Yesterday was the Memorial service. I was again asked if I would photograph the event. It started well, but quickly, my camera began refusing to auto-focus. Switching to Manual focus, I tried to continue. Then came the testimonies, the stories, the images of overwhelming grief I was capturing, and I could no longer hold back the tears. Squinting, everything seemed blurry. I couldn’t tell if the pictures were in focus or not. I prayed that God would help me focus, and I shot in faith.

Today I start on Ryan’s photos and footage, and though the pain is sometimes great, I look forward to what Ryan will teach me about his life- about fatherhood, about loving people, about focusing on that which is eternal. God is good, even when everything seems blurry.