Collin lovingly wrapped a sticky tape that read “XL” around my wrist like it was a new piece of jewelry.  But his eyes were twinkling.  The sticky tape was off a cheap new tshirt from Target.  Collin said it was definitely mine.  I thanked him cautiously.  He asked me if I knew what it meant.  I replied in what I meant to be my dry tone, that it meant Extra Large and Very Funny Son.  His grin widened.  It has another meaning.  Now I was stumped.  “Roman numerals,” he encouraged.

Then I knew it was time to go write my end of furlough blog.  What a perfect summation.  Extra Large and Forty.

Yes, that is my feeling, my view.  But I think God has another take on it.  I can hear the whine of the jet engines spooling up.  I can feel the press of time rushing past us now.  XLerating.  It is time to go.  “XL” -Father God whispers with that great faith only an engaging dad’s eyes can hold.  A kind of “You can do it.”  Even though we cannot.  But he wants that we should try.  And he will back us up.

Extra Large.  Forty.  Excel.  Accelerate.  Do those four words find any natural fit with each other?  I think God might be laughing quietly.  What else could it mean?  Exhale?  Ex-hell?  I should stop holding my breath; let go of anxiety and breath deeply with the knowledge of my name written in an ultimate Book of Life.  Jesus said not to rejoice because the demons are subject, but to rejoice that we have eternal life.  God, Only You can make our work mean that someone else will find Christ and find their name written down in God’s book and be able to exhale at last together with us.  Ex-hell.  Perhaps even whole people groups perishing…then rescued.  PRAY ye the LORD of the harvest that He will send laborers into the harvest.  Even extra large, forty year old laborers like me.

-Liisa

Our latest OFM video production took us to a remote island in the Indian Ocean in which the local population is 100 percent Muslim. There are no believers. Through relationships built up with workers there, we were able to film in a mosque on several occasions, something we’ve never before been able to do. It is a slow moving and beautiful place. The Islanders, void of extreme poverty and other hardships so prevalent in most of Africa, immerse themselves in a mix of Islam and animistic beliefs, none of which give them enough hope to break through the inevitable apathy and fatalism of such conditions and into the pure joy of knowing intimately our Creator. Pray for them and for the Truth to be known among them.

-Ted

Home school Order Time is upon me. It is late to be ordering for this next year. Late maybe because this past year of home schooling consumed all the days so far? With difficulty I must recall my proactive, prudent, future planning side. I stay focused on the immediate moment. Worshiping Christ sets my mind and heart on over-arching transcendent Realities, thereby bringing some measure of balance. The more I get down on my knees by the old blue couch, or drag out the guitar to see if I can remember chords, or pull the scribbled note of a Bible verse off my bathroom mirror and kneel right there, the less I get lost in the right now.

I was serious about this next year being the year to try day school. God did not seem to agree. When I prayed about the day school option, this vague “no” would mist around me like a sea fog hovering over water. I argued with it a little but also felt excited again that the God of the universe could possibly have an opinion about such a decision. There was no money for the day school. There was an endless stream of dropped comments all pointing in one direction. Like tourists noticing Kilimanjaro just appearing, a whole mountain walking closer out from its own mysterious mists, many of my listenings in random conversations with others pointed suddenly at home schooling as yet lovely. So, as Ted would say, “decision’s made- the chase is on!” Now I need to pack for the climb, move closer to the mountain, and quickly hire a guide! I think I will start by getting down on my knees by the old blue couch.

-Liisa