Happy New Year!

As the sky writer hovered over head in his airplane and slowly but surely spelled out his message for the one million plus people gathered in the Sydney Harbour below, one thing became very clear: Australia is not afraid to use the name of Jesus. "The . . . creator . . . is . . . Jesus," the message declared. Yes, truly, the heavens declare the handiwork of God and the heavens speak a continuous, silent message that there is a Creator. And as we enjoyed the $5 million fireworks spectacular last night, I talked with a woman from Fiji who was raised a Hindu, but married a Muslim, so she became a Muslim. I shared with her about the God who thinks more about her each night than the grains of sand on the seashores. I gave her a small bible and challenged her to get to know this God in 2009. As we left, the presence of this God in our midst was clear, as Susan gave away a pair of her sandals to a young, intoxicated woman whose shoe had broken. It was a touching sight. Yes, 2009 is here. It will be filled with its challenges and blessings (in no particular order, for it rains on the just and the unjust alike), so let me challenge you to resolve to know God more. For you were designed to know God, and once you start doing what you were designed to do, your life will be invigorating. Happy New Year!

365 Days, 66 Books, 1 Goal Accomplished

In October last year, Tyler told me that he wanted to read his Bible through in a year, for he noticed that his Bible had a schedule to do so. Needless to say, it was a very moving moment for me. As such, I tried to immediately get him to start, for I figured that there was no reason to wait until January 1st. But Tyler had his heart set on starting on January 1st, so he did. Susan immediately decided to join Tyler on his journey, so they both got One-Year Bibles and started their quest. At times, they would get behind a day or two, but they diligently continued reading the Word of God. And, today, two days ahead of schedule, they finished reading the entire Bible. We celebrated their accomplishment by eating out for dinner for the first time on our trip. We went to . . . Outback Steakhouse (what did you expect?). "Thy word have I hid in my heart that I might not sin against you." Psalm 119:11.

Merry Christmas!

Somehow it came. It didn't come in the usual way. There was no living tree. There were very, very few Christmas lights in the neighborhood. There was no gathering with extended family. There was no Christmas Eve celebration at church. There was no chance for snow in the nearby mountains (let alone on the continent). There were but a few small gifts and dinner was not served until 9 p.m. But Christmas came nonetheless and it was beautiful. It was very different, but it was very familiar. We celebrated Jesus' birthday, the day God became a baby boy with a destiny to save the world from sin. We enjoyed one another's company as we ate, opened presents, listened to Christmas music, talked to family on the phone, ate (some more), and entertained some of our new friends, John, Tina, Fritz, and Nora. And then we ate some dessert. And then we ate dinner (yes, in that order). Yes, Christmas in Australia was beautiful. In fact, we'll never forget it the rest of our lives. May God richly bless your Christmas too.

The Little Drummer Boy

We had dinner with some friends the other night. We met these new friends at a small home bible study group. What is so amazing is that the wife, Nora, used to live (literally) right across the freeway from us and attend our church. Needless to say, we had never met her before we came to Australia. Anyway, before we went to their house for dinner, Susan previously had given Nora a copy of the Oasis 2 Christmas CD, which has on it the song, "The Little Drummer Boy." The song was played on the album by Cesar Gervasi and his band and was sang in English and in Spanish. As we were talking, Nora, who is Hispanic, told us that the song had so moved her when it was sang in Spanish, for it was her mother's favorite song, and her mother (who spoke Spanish) passed away earlier this year. What's truly amazing about this story is that we only got those CDs just minutes before we left for LAX. In fact, David and Grace Chu went out of their way to pick them up from our church and bring them to us at our home, for we did not have the time. Truly, God, in His goodness, saw to it that Nora had a beautiful memory of her mother at Christmas time.

I'll Be Home For Christmas . . .

"I'll be home for Christmas . . . if only in my dreams" the popular Christmas carol declares. At times, I'm utterly amazed at the longing I have in my heart to be home for Christmas to experience all the "usual" things that we experience at Christmas time. You never realize your affinity for the "usual" until you are removed from it. Thankfully, however, Susan has repeatedly reminded us to enjoy the experience of an Australian Christmas, instead of complaining about what we are missing (and, yes, I have been guilty of complaining about what I miss). To that end, our Christmas tree (all 3 feet of it (and all plastic--there are very few real Christmas trees in Australia)) is decorated with koala ornaments and has a small plush koala with a Santa hat underneath it. Our birthday cake for Jesus will be Lamingtons, which is a traditional Australian dessert. And we will be having a barbeque (yes, you read right!) on Christmas Eve at some friends' house. And after reading some from the book of Colossians last night, I've vowed to stop my complaining and start thanking God more for this opportunity, for it truly is a unique opportunity with which He has blessed us. And, next year, I'm sure that I'll be dreaming of an Australian Christmas . . . including the shrimp on the barbie.

Christmas at the Sydney Opera House

Last night we went to the Sydney Opera House to enjoy "Christmas at the House." Like most of you, the Sydney Opera House always has been one of those places that I've always wanted to go to. But we figured that it might be prohibitively expensive to see a play. So when we found out about their Christmas production, which cost us only $25 each, we bought tickets immediately. Because the tickets were all the same price, we ended up with some of the best seats in the house. Although we knew that there would be Christmas carols sang, we had no idea that it was a world class, top-notch event, complete with five opera stars. About two-thirds of the way through the production, one of the stars of the show sat down in a chair on stage and read Luke 2 verbatim. It was simply beautiful. The orchestra then began playing "Silent Night." As Susan stated afterward, if we lived here, then this would become an annual Christmas tradition for us.

What's That Green Stuff?

Last night I started praying about doing more while we are here, so this morning we prayed about it and offered ourselves afresh to any opportunities that God may have for us. To that end, we hopped into the car and headed for a local university to see if there might be some opportunities there. But then the car started to get hot, and hotter, and hotter within a half-mile. As such, we turned around and headed for the local grocery store to pick up some antifreeze. When we came out of the store there was green stuff all under our car. As such, we are taking the subway to a different location. This obviously was not our plan, so let's see what happens.

A New Perspective

Belonging to a church whose vision is evangelism, I've been around a lot of missionairies (where's spell check when you need it). Yet, I've never really understood what missionairies actually do or what they go through, even though I have heard their stories. Hence this experiment in a foreign land has been extremely enlightening, but also frustrating. For starters, I've learned that things don't go the way that you anticipate or plan. In fact, things often seem to happen in a spontaneous manner, rather than in a planned fashion. Next, I've learned that you don't have to leave the country to be used by God. For most of the ways that I've seen God use us here have been the exact same ways that He used us in the U.S. But even though you do not have to leave the country to be used by God, leaving the country helps you to focus on Him and His affairs, for the normal cares of life (thankfully) do not accompany you to a foreign land, although new "cares" try to immediately cram their way into your new lifestyle. Third, a mission trip tests your motives: I constantly find myself asking: why am I doing this? Am I trying to please someone back home? Am I trying to impress people? In spite of this, one of the greatest things about going on a mission trip is that you get to know Jesus Christ in a deeper way, for you have additional time to crack open your bible and pray. You get to pray about your motives and ask God to reveal new things to you. Moreover, you get to simply make yourself available to be used by God. With that said, let me encourage anyone who wants to be a missionary to go for it, particularly if you are single. Through all the ups and downs, it's a great life, and I assure you that you'll never regret it.

You'll Have to Look Up My Sister

If anything has been constant for us in Australia thus far, it has been the unexpected. In a nutshell, nothing has gone the way that we anticipated. Take, for example, our desire to take a two-week road trip at the end of our 90 days in Australia to see the Great Barrier Reef and the Outback. When we mentioned this to our hosts in Newcastle, they promptly said, "You can't wait until then; it will be the rainy season and everything shuts down up there." To make a long story short, we found ourselves packing for our trip the following morning.

Initially, I wrestled with the thought of "vacationing" before having "earned" it. But then I quickly realized that God had His schedule and I had mine. While I have relayed a couple of things that God did while we were out on the road, I neglected to share the one below. I think you'll enjoy it.

The second morning of our road trip, we found ourselves overlooking the ocean. Something was different, however. As I looked over the blue waters, the rolling waves, the birds flying above, and the beautiful sand, Susan pointed it out to me: there was absolutely no development. There were no roads, no houses, nothing. It was, in a word, natural. The view was gorgeous.

Up on the bluff, an elderly man and his wife were taking in the view. We started talking with them about where to find koalas, etc. Susan then mentioned to them that we intended to go to Lightning Ridge to look for black opal. Lightning Ridge is in the Outback (about 500 miles away!) and apparently is the only place on the globe where black opal is found. "Oh," replied the elderly man, "you'll have to look up my sister when you are in Lightning Ridge. She and her husband used to mine black opal. Their name should be in the phone book." We had nothing with which to write, so we attempted to memorize her name, Robin Hutchinson. "There is no 'n,' in her last name," the elderly gentleman corrected me. To be brutally honest, I didn't care if it were Batman & Robin, I was just pacifying him. "Oh, okay," I replied, "H...u...t...c...h...i...s...o...n...." "Right," he replied.

When we reached the car, Susan wanted me to write the woman's name down. To be frank, I had no intention of looking up some lady and her husband, but I wrote her name down anyway.

(Fast forward about ten days.) We arrive in Lightning Ridge, which is as attractive as Trona, California. (Note: for those of you who have not been to Trona, you are missing out on a good laugh about now, so just go ahead and yucked it up for a second and then get back to the story.) We pull up to the visitor center and Susan asks the woman at the desk if she knows Robin Hutchison. "Yes, I do. She is a lovely woman." And, what do you know, she also had her phone number. Sometimes I can get my mind set on doing one thing (and nothing else) and I don't care to change my plans. This was one of those times. I just wanted to search for some black opal with the kids, get a Coke, and go camp. I was NOT in the mood to visit anyone, let alone a complete stranger.

But God had a different plan. Lightning Ridge has a population of about 3,000 and daytime temperatures reach about the same. As such, when we were driving around the town and I saw an Olympic-sized pool, which was open to the public, I quickly pulled to the side of the road and stopped to see how much it cost to get in. "$3.50" stated the clerk. With that wonderful news, it was not long before Amy, Tyler, and I were in our bathing suits.

The pool was truly Olympic-sized: 50 meters long with ten (or more) lanes. No wonder the Aussies are so good in Olympic swimming. We were in heaven. Susan, however, was on the phone with the woman, Robin. Before long, Susan informed me that the lady was coming to the pool for a visit.

When the woman came, she and Susan hit it off immediately. The woman looked at Susan's cross necklace and asked if she were a Christian. Before I knew it, Mrs. Hutchison was taking us for a tour (in her four-wheel drive) of the opal mines in the Outback. I have never seen a grandma so comfortable driving through pot holes!

After our two-hour tour of the opal mine sites, Mrs. Hutchison took us to her house. We met her husband, Ken, and sat down for tea. Two hours later, we had seen numerous beautiful paintings that she had painted, eaten fresh honey (straight from their backyard beehive), and learned that Ken was once an avid surfer. In fact, Ken so enjoyed talking about surfing with Tyler and me that he gave us a color photograph of the surfing spot at which he used to surf. It is located about 40 miles south of Sydney. Tyler and I promised to go surf the spot for him.

As we left their home that late afternoon, Susan and Mrs. Hutchison exchanged addresses. Who would have thought that we would drive 500 miles from the place where we first met her brother to her home? Not me. Who would have thought that Amy and Tyler would have discovered a new hobby (involving opals) only weeks before we left for our trip that would cause us to go to Lightning Ridge in the first place? Truly, God is directing our steps, even when I (in my ignorance) don't realize it.

A Visitor!

Shortly after we decided to go to Australia, we learned that some friends, Hank and Candy, would be coming to Australia on December 5th for a cruise. Ever since that time, I have eagerly waited for that day to come, so that we could show them around town. Well, that day finally came the other day. The only thing, however, was that we had never been to Sydney since the first day that we arrived, so we didn't know our way around town. As such, as we weaved our way through the maze that is known as Sydney, and we arrived at the cruise line dock with only ten minutes to spare. And then we got to see one of the greatest sights since we arrived: a friend, Hank. Hank, however, was alone, for his wife, Candy, was not able to make it. Hank treated us to lunch and we talked about all that has been transpiring since we left a month ago. You'll never quite know what a treat it was until it happens to you. Bon voyage, Hank; we'll see you in a couple months.

I Boxed a Kangaroo

When I saw the sign, I couldn't resist: "Box a Kangaroo: $40." I always chided anyone who actually lost a boxing match to a kangaroo. Who couldn't beat up a kangaroo? I grew up watching Muhammed Ali, Joe Frazier, George Foreman, and all the rest, and once owned an authentic pair of Everlast boxing gloves, so I knew that this kangaroo would be no problem. Or so I thought.

"47-0," the sign by the window boasted. "Is that his lifetime record?" I inquired. "No, that is his record for the month (it was still November at the time)," replied the vendor, who reminded me a bit of Don King, the famous boxing promoter. "Wow!" I thought, "47 times $40 equals $1,880! I ought to buy a kangaroo and teach him how to box." Okay, so that isn't what entered my mind right then, but now that I'm writing . . .

"Who decides who wins the match?" I asked, for I'd been around boxing (and seen enough Olympic ice skating) long enough to know that scoring was critical. "It's easy," the promoter replied, "the first one knocked down twice is the loser."

It sounded fair enough, so I strapped on my head gear and two boxing gloves. As I laced up my boxing gloves, I immediately checked to see if they were SPCA-approved (that's Society for the Protection against Cruelty to Animals). I was sure they were, for there was so much padding that I started to fear that my blows to this kangaroo would never hurt it. I started to wonder if the deck was stacked against me. But my $40 already had changed hands, so I vowed to fight my heart out.

As Don King announced to the crowd of three (Susan, Amy, and Tyler) that the match was for the World Kangaroo Boxing Association (yes, there is a WKBA) championship, I felt a little stupid. Beating up on Garrett is one thing, but beating up a helpless kangaroo?

The bell rang and I fearlessly (okay, I wouldn't believe me either!) moved toward the center of the ring. I held my gloves high in front of my face and started to bounce (okay, bad word choice)toward the kangaroo. Sugar Ray Leonard would have been proud of me. But then something happened. Something I never thought possible. Quite frankly, I didn't even see it coming and I'm a little bit embarrassed to admit it. You could say that it was an uppercut of sorts. But whatever it was, I ended up on my backside. Thankfully, the only thing injured was my ego, so I scrambled to my feet. "7!, 8!, 9!" No, I wasn't being counted out. Rather, I was thinking about how quickly my $40 were almost gone.

With a trickle of blood (yes, the blood actually may have been from my scratching one of my 1,000 plus misquito bites, but it sounds better) coming from my nose, I was now over my fear of hurting this kangaroo. It knew what it was doing to me. It wasn't helpless and it wasn't nice. And it was payback time.

Rather than hop back out to the center of the ring, I decided to stay in my corner and play rope-a-dope. Who says you can't learn a thing or two from TV? And, believe it or not, the kangaroo came at me, but rather than try to hit him, I simply covered up and braced for his blow. "Slam!" I heard his back feet hit my arms. But since I was up against the ropes this time, I didn't get knocked down.

Clearly, the kangaroo was surprised that I had not fallen. So as it stood there, I (brace yourself, particularly if you are an animal lover) clocked him right on the jaw. "Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!!" I could hear Howard Cosell shouting from times passed. In my ear, however, I could hear Amy saying, "Daddy! You hurt the poor, little kangaroo!"

Now, with my ego hurt by the first blow from the kangaroo, and with my image as a father hurt by my blow to this cute looking beast, I had a choice to make: Do I try to win or do I throw in the towel in hopes of winning Father-of-the-Year? One glance over at the WKBA championship belt, which, strangely, was sized to fit a kangaroo, and I knew what I had to do--promise Amy an ice cream when it was all over!

For a second, I thought to ask Susan to film the rest of the fight, so that we might put it on You-Tube, but then the thought of being either: 1) the doofus who got beat up by a kangaroo; or 2) the newly-found villian of Green Peace. My senses got the best of me and I said nothing.

"Ya, ready, mate?" asked the Don King wannabe (come to think of it, maybe it was Don King! The kangaroo looked awfully poor for all his winnings!). But then Mr. King did what only boxing promoters could do: he changed the rules midstream. He brought out a new, humongous, red kangaroo. It was more than double the size of the other kangaroo, which I later learned was only a wallabee (please, don't look up how small it was, lest you think I'm an absolute wimp).

"Hey, that's not fair," I objected. "What are you, chicken, mate?" (They say "mate" all the time over here . . . mate.) Apparently, even in the outback, they know the universal insult to manhood is to be called "chicken." "No, but . . ." I started, but couldn't think of any good excuse why the wallabee should stay in the ring. "Besides, it would be cruel to the roo (he obviously knew that I was clueless as to what kind of animal I had been fighting) to let him stay in the ring; he might get hurt." Clearly, Don King had a satelite dish somewhere on these remote premises, so I was no match for his politcally correct concerns. And, quite frankly, I'd rather fight a kangaroo than engage in some p.c. battle any day.

Mr. King rang the bell and the big roo just stood still. 20 seconds passed and neither of us moved. "Uh, oh," I thought, "rope-a-dope isn't going to work this time." "C'mon, mate, get boxin'" hollered Mr. King. About then, my common sense really kicked in: what in the world was I trying to prove here?

Before any more common sense could kick in, the roo charged me. I wanted to run and hide (Did I just write that?), but it was too late. As the roo jumped in the air to kick me in the face, I ducked, and the roo missed my face, but ended up on my back. The thing weighed a ton.

As I tried to push the roo off my back, he twisted and ended up around my neck. (Yes, I was now giving a kangaroo a piggy back ride.) But then the roo pulled out one of the dirtiest tricks in the book: he pulled the wool (or whatever his fur is called) of his pouch over my eyes. I couldn't see anything, so I ended up tripping and falling to the ground. The match was over. "48-0!" shouted Mr. King as he began to laugh. What did you expect from a boxing match? They're all fixed. And if you don't believe me, then just ask my great, great uncle, Mark Twain.

Go Steelers!

Recently, we were out on the road and got lost (imagine that!). As such, we stopped to ask a tatooed man in his 60s, who was walking his dog, for directions. It was a hot morning, so he had no shirt on. Before long, he was telling us of his affection for gridiron (that's what they call the NFL). His favorite team, he quickly let us know, was the Pittsburgh Steelers. So I asked him how he had become a Steelers' fan. "When I was in Vietnam, I met a U.S. soldier from Michigan. He was a big Steelers' fan and he taught me all about American football." He then proceeded to tell me about his recent visit to the U.S. (he had been there within the past few weeks) and how he had flown to Michigan, rented a Corvette, and driven to see the Steelers play a game. Thankfully, for his sake, the Steelers won the game. He then excitedly told me about how he had watched Michgan beat Iowa in a college football game. It was so fun talking to this guy that I shared with him my love for Husker football and thanked him for his service in Vietnam. "You know," he said, "when I got to Michigan, some gentlemen thanked me there too for serving in Vietnam." He was obviously touched. He then proudly showed me his Steelers' tatoo. Eventually, he gave us the directions we needed and we headed off. But then it hit me, so I turned around and drove back to the gentlemen. "There is something greater than American football," I started, "that I'd like to share with you." I then told him of a challenge that a friend of mine, Mike, had given to me: he challenged me to read my bible for five minutes a day for a week and guaranteed that it would change my life forever. With that, I gave him a bible and challenged him too. He was open to my challenge. As we drove away we looked back and saw the man reading his bible as he walked along with his dog. Influence is a beautiful thing when used for good. How is your life influencing those around you? Go Steelers!

40-31

For Dave Love's sake: we stopped at a gas station today in the outback (after nearly being flooded out of our tent last night) and got online to enjoy our annual day after Thanksgiving ritual: watching the Huskers destroy Dave's Colorado Buffaloes. Yes, Dave, we were hooting and hollering in a gas station in our Husker gear. There is nothing quite like "watching" a 57-yard field goal from the other side of the world. Go Big Red!

I Took the Road Less Traveled

In Robert Frost's famous poem, he wrote of the fork in the road and choosing to take the road less traveled. Last night, we faced one of those proverbial forks in the road and we opted to take . . . the road less traveled.

Venturing off into the bush from the main road (actually it was only a two-lane road in the boonies) we drove in the pitch black night through a tree and bush-lined one-lane road hoping to find a remote campground (at least the map said it existed). As bush after bush wacked the rental car (why didn't I buy that extra insurance!!!!) and the brush growing in the middle of the road grew higher and higher, I remembered my mom's last comment to me, "Don't do anything foolish." (Sorry, Mom, this qualified!) We had been driving for about an hour when we saw a huge spider (nearly as big as a tarantula) hanging in the middle of the road, Susan said, "No one has been out here in forever." As the massive spider crashed into the window, my only hope was that the massive spider, which was now on my side of the car, would not be there to greet me when we arrived.

After 90 minutes of driving, it was clear that we would be doing a u-turn if we ever reached the end of the road. Then, dread of all dreads, we saw something that we could not believe: there was a closed gate in the middle of the road. "How would we turn around?", I thought. Would we have to back out the entire way--like we had to do on that Tahitian mountain when we tried to see a waterfall in a car that was no bigger than one of those cars that kids drive outside of grocery stores. But then the road bent and we realized that the gate belonged to someone's private driveway. Great, now we also had to worry about the crazy person who lived out in the middle of nowhere.

On we went for 5 more kilometers until we saw the sign for Bustard Beach. "How many people can say they have been to Bustard Beach?" I asked Susan. Before long I saw the sign for the vacant campground and to our great surprise there was a group of "schoolies." "Schoolies" are kids who just graduated from high school. They had a huge bonfire going. And to our greater surprise, they were happy to see us! There were 11 of them, but they said that they were lonely. (That's teen lingo for "scared.") After greeting one another, they promised not to be too loud. We assured them that they could be as loud as they wanted to be, for it was spooky out there and the noise helped relieve the spookiness of it all.

In the morning, we spend some more time getting to know them and gave them all See's suckers. And one of them gave his heart to the Lord. The road less traveled was well worth it, spiders and all.

Count to Five

One of the things that is frustrating in Australia is the speed limit. It changes about every quarter mile. At any rate, on Friday morning we started to head out of town and as we came up over a slight hill at just over 60 kmph (that's about 32 mph), I could see a police officer standing in the middle of the road up ahead with what appeared to be a speed gun. Now, mind you, I have never had a moving violation in my life (who says life never changes?), so I was a bit perturbed at my streak coming to an end. The officer motioned for me to pull to the side of the road. And, to my surprise, did not come to my door for an explanation as to why I was driving 62 kmph in a 60 kmph. I was ready with my "I'm an American" excuse, but I never got a chance. He started writing and I figured that I was doomed. Finally, the officer walked up to my door and asked me if I had been drinking. It was 10 in the morning; I had barely had a Coke (yes, some things never change). "No," I responded. "Count to five," he commanded me and he jammed a microphone in my face. I resisted the urge to count in Spanish (sorry, Miss Spence! (that's my former Spanish teacher for all of you who may not have been in the class with me), and proceeded to count to five. I apparently passed the quiz, for I was permitted to go. Yes, I'm still without a moving violation, but the pop (or was that booze) quiz let me thinking: when life ends abruptly one day, will I be ready?

He's Got You By a Centimeter!

After the Wednesday night home bible study in Newcastle, Tyler and I stood back-to-back. For over 13 years, I had towered above him, but, now, in this foreign land, he was giving me a run for my money. As two young Australian men watched Susan measure us, one of them shouted out, "He's got you by a centimeter!" Yes, that dreaded day had come: I'm now the shortest in my family.

On the Road Again

For the third time in less than three weeks, we're moving again. This time, we are headed for the northeastern coast of Australia, where we will encounter the equivalent of Spring Break in Brisbaine. We may not have internet access for some time, so be patient with this site!

The Sun Sets in the West

The sun sets in the west, even in Australia. Now the toilets flush in a reverse manner, but the sun still goes down in the right direction.

If You Had One Question . . .

If you could ask God one question, and you were guaranteed an answer, then what would your question be?

Have You Ever Touched a Python?

"Come out, Daddy!" shouted Amy. "You have to see the python." Since I had never seen a python before, I made a beeline for the door. Sure enough, there in the bush next to the house was a long python. Yes, that type of python. Our host tells us that it is good to have a python around your house in Australia, for they keep the bad snakes away. Since the python was so long, I decided to touch him, figuring that there was no way that he could react fast enough to bite me. So I reached out and touched him. And, guess what? He jumped. And, needless to say, I jumped. But then I jumped for joy, because I touched a python! And then, much to Susan’s dismay, Tyler touched the python too! And later Amy touched him, too. Sorry, Mom, but we couldn’t resist.

Wacky Wednesday

As we walked up to the counter to check in for our flight from Tahiti to Sydney, which was scheduled to leave at 2 a.m., on Wednesday, November 13th, the clerk said that there was one little problem: there was no indication that I had a visa for Australia (even though I had it in my hand). As such, they would have to check with the Australian Consulate to see if I could enter the country. "Lord," I silently prayed, "if you don’t want me to go to Australia, then that’s fine. But, if you do, then will you please clear this up." Thankfully, we had arrived five hours early for the flight (that’s about 4 hours and 30 minutes earlier than normal for me), so I presumed that the matter could be cleared up in time for us to board our flight. And, thankfully, it wasn’t long before I was granted a new visa to enter the country, so we boarded our flight.

When we landed in Sydney after our eight-hour flight, we made it to the rental car counter, where we learned that they had no cars for rent and they did not have a car reserved for us (even though I had the reservation in my hand). After a few minutes, they figured out the problem: I had reserved the car for Wednesday, November 13th. While we had left at 2 a.m. on Wednesday, November 13th, and had traveled for only eight hours, we had crossed the international date line. As such, we lost a day (I still can’t figure that one out!). Thankfully, they found a car for us and we were on our way.

As we made it to the town north of Sydney where we are spending our first week, we noticed some huge, exotic parrots (much to Amy’s delight), so we stopped to admire them. While we were admiring them, we met a man, Jack, who was 74 years old and recovering from open heart surgery. He unabashedly showed me the big scar on his chest, which was only ten days old, and told us of his double bypass and aortic valve replacement. After chit chatting with Jack about this and that, we asked him if we could pray for him and he gladly bowed his head and we prayed for a speedy recovery and a long life to enjoy his daughter’s recently born triplets. Day 1 in Australia turned out to be an absolute blessing, even though we had to drive on the wrong side of the road.

Around the Moon

When the astronauts used to go around the moon, they would lose all contact with planet earth (at least that’s what I recall Tom Hanks saying in "Apollo 13"). At any rate, we’ve just experienced our own version of being on the backside of the moon. We have been days without any internet connection and it was rather weird. At the same time, it was rather refreshing. We got to enjoy visiting with the members of Calvary Chapel Tahiti, see the sights of Tahiti, and just relax.

A Slice of Heaven

Although only Susan had been to Tahiti before, we knew that we were in for a slice of heaven when we landed in Tahiti. The only thing that we didn’t realize, though, was that it wasn’t the beautiful blue water or the coral reefs or the sunsets or the hanging palm and coconut trees, but, rather, it was the people. More particularly, it was Girard and Tarita Tehotu. Girard is the pastor of Calvary Chapel Tahiti. They picked us up and drove us about 30 miles to a bungalo that was rented for us by the church. (For some unknown reason, they treat us like royalty. I know, I know, a lot of you are saying, "Amen" to that statement.) One of the members of the church had picked fresh pineapples for us. Another had picked fresh mangoes and bananas for us. And still another member of the congregation had baked us a cake. You talk about tangibly feeling the love of God, we were blown away.

Days Go By

One of my favorite lines in a song comes from Lifehouse's song "Days Go By." The line is simply: "Sit down, sit back, and watch the days go by. Are you ever going to live before you die?" We leave for Australia in three days. There are hundreds of reasons why we shouldn't go, but, you know what, we're not going to "sit down, sit back, and watch the days go by." Rather, we're going to step out in faith and live. And while we are on the subject, let me encourage you to start really living. For as a good friend of mine told me, "We only get one shot at life and so many people grow old and say, 'If only I'd struck out and done something adventurous.'"

Deal or No Deal?

Okay, I confess: I occasionally watch parts of Deal or No Deal? And after having watched parts of several shows the past couple years, I'm ready to announce that the show is an absolute fraud. Why do I say that? Because there is no way that a real person would turn down some of the offers that those actors turn down. If you think that I am off my rocker, then try watching an episode of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? On Millioniare, it is common for contestants to say such things as, "You know, Meredith, $16,000 is a lot of money; I just can't risk it (for $25,000) when I am not certain about the answer to that question." Put simply, it is obvious that the contestants on Millionaire are real, whereas the contestants on Deal or No Deal? are actors. Now try watching an episode of Deal or No Deal? from that perspective. By way of example, tonight I saw a guy turn down over $600,000 for a 2/3rds chance of winning a million. What did the guy ultimately win? Well, it came down to a 50-50 chance of him winning $1 (imagine that?) or $1 million (boy, that sure makes for great drama!). And what do you think would make for better water cooler banter: the foolish guy who turned down a $600,000 offer or the guy who won $1 million? The actor won $?????? I told you it was a farse. And while we are on the subject of real or fake, what about your life? Is it "real," or does it just look "real"? That's the true million dollar question.

Dumpster Diving

As we were walking to our car after doing some early morning surfing, we saw a homeless guy digging in the dumpster for cans or whatever. The first thought that ran through my mind was, "That's why you go to school. What a waste of a life." We got to our car, and Tyler said to me, "Dad, did you see that homeless guy; he didn't even have a shirt." Since we just so happened to have a car full of stuff to take to donate, Tyler said, "Do we have a shirt in here that we could give to him?" We looked around and found a polo shirt that had been given to us in a scavenger hunt called "bigger or better." At any rate, the shirt happened to be "bigger" than the item that we traded it for. In fact, the shirt was a lot bigger. It was a 3X to be exact. And the homeless guy was more like a medium. At any rate, we caught up with the homeless guy, John, and asked him if he needed a shirt. "Yeah, I've needed a shirt for quit a while," he responded. "It's a 3X" I told him,"but it's brand new with the tags on it." He didn't care; he was just happy to have a shirt. As we left, I realized that Tyler's heart had been sensitive to the heart of God, but mine had not. "It's too bad we don't have a belt, Daddy," Tyler said, "because he had an electrical cord tied around his pants for a belt." We did have a belt in the car--it was wrapped around my waist--so we drove back and gave John a belt too. "God bless you," John told us as we left. May your heart be as sensitive as Tyler's as you go about your day.

T-30

Unbelievably, we leave in 30 days! Have you ever packed for vacation? You know how it is. For some strange reason, you always wait until the last minute. Well, guess what? 30 days to get ready for leaving the planet (that's how far away Australia is!) is not really long enough to get ready. But come November 6th, we'll be buckling our seatbelts and putting our seats in their upright positions. We'll turn off our Ipods (apparently so that our batteries will last for 14 hours) and start down the run way. Hey, we might even look to see where the emergency exits are located. Okay, let's get back to reality. For we only have 30 days to pack!!!!! Oh, and by the way, our Ipods only need to last for eight hours, for our first stop is Tahiti.

The Big 2

"What are you going to be doing in Australia?" people are beginning to ask me. Quite frankly: I don't know! But I did speak to one of my missionary friends about what to expect. "Stu, you've got to keep it simple," he told me, "whenever people asked me what I was doing, I would tell them, 'The Big 2.' I would then tell them about the two greatest commandments: loving God and loving our neighbors." With that advice, I now know for certain what we'll be doing in Australia: the Big 2!

Change That to November 6th

Okay, so a football game had a say in our original date of choice, but a travel agent had the final say. So we will be leaving for Australia on November 6th. First stop? . . . Stay tuned!

Why November 3rd?

For those of you who really know me, then this is a no brainer. Pull out your college football schedules and look at whom the Huskers play on Saturday, November 1st: Oklahoma. Yes, a football game had a hand in determining the exact date of our departure. Now, if the Huskers lose, then we'll be a bit disappointed hopping onto that plane, but if they win, then what a sendoff it will be!