High Adventure Deep, Deep Down

“I wonder what my mom would say if she could see me now,” mused the guy beside me as we braced

ourselves against the cold cave wall, “I don’t often tell my parents what I’m doing.”

“Mine are pretty used to me by now,” I said, ensuring my boots had their firmest possible hold on the muddy wall opposite, “Though I like to keep them posted so they’ll know how to pray.”

A glance at the void where the floor dropped off beside me, sloping down as an angled crevice which ended in darkness some fifteen feet below, suggested I could use those prayers about now. Shoulders pushed against the stone behind me, boots against the wall three feet away, I began easing my way sideways over the void.

How in the world did I end up here, anyway?

Let me tell you the story.

Spectacular Scotland

Scene from the beach where we picnicked
with the Mitchells on our last day in Scotland

“This beverage is actually illegal in Canada,” Mrs. Mitchell said as she poured me a glass. “It probably has something to do with this label, here.”

I squinted at the fine print on the bottle of orange liquid, a distinctly Scottish soft drink termed Irn-Bru. (That’s pronounced “iron brew,” and make sure to roll those r’s!) May cause an adverse affect on activity and attention in children. Hmmm. I took a sip. I still can’t tell you what it tastes like—a drink that combines 32 flavours will do that to your descriptive abilities. 

But it’s good. 

You can read the label for yourself!

Testing mysterious beverages, however, was only the beginning of our three day’s experience in Scotland. Our friends the Mitchells, the pastor family with whom we are staying, have done a highly thorough job of helping Jonathan and me tap into our Scottish roots. So far, for example, we’ve breakfasted on white (and black) puddings, explored the castle belonging to the clan of our great, great grandmother, and discovered that haggis is actually rather tasty.

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Midnight Marathon

Forty Hours.

Street level in Glasgow

That’s how long we went without being in bed—if you count the two-hour nap we had between 11:00 PM and 1:00AM on Sunday “going to bed!” Rising from this slumber, Jonathan and I flung ourselves into a whirlwind marathon of traveling by van, bus, car and plane, wandering city streets and waiting in airports, passing through six count-em ‘ countries in less than two days.

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Snapshots of Slovenia (and Italy...and Croatia...)

Countryside surrounding "Jerusalem," a region of Slovenia
filled with orchards and vineyards 

(Written Sunday, July 25)

The time has come to fill in all those little gaps. Gaps like last Saturday, part 2 of our team day excursion, which included spontaneously detouring to Italy, wandering solo through Slovenia's capital city and rowing on iconic Lake Bled. Gaps like yesterday, when we spent the afternoon on a day-trip for lunch in Croatia. Gaps like listing all the random cultural differences between Canada and Slovenia. Since I have little else to do, waiting here at the Amsterdam airport for our flight out to London (except to procrastinate booking our bus tickets back from Scotland), now is the perfect opportunity to degapify things. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let the photos do most of the talking.

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Street Level in Slovenia

What do performing a drama on a village square outside a small castle, playing acoustic guitar in a public park, and singing gospel music selections on Slovenian city streets have in common?

Our past week of team ministry, that's what.

It all began Sunday, with a typical church service at which we helped lead a few worship songs, performed our drama, and listened to one of our leaders deliver the message. That night, however, we took the show outside to street level for the first time with an open-air concert in Murska Sobota. There was only one problem: rain. Intermittent showers forced us to run for cover with the instruments a couple of times before the concert, leaving us with nothing to do but pray for the sky to clear for the duration of the concert. As we started singing, patches of blue began to overtake the sky, allowing low sunlight to illuminate the massive trees around us. And--though I must have been facing the wrong direction to see it--I hear there was even a beautiful rainbow overhead. 

(The best is yet to come! Please click "Read More" to continue.)

Team Day, Part 1: From the Postojna Caves to the Adriatic Sea

The village church bells have just tolled in the midnight hour, so I really should be sleeping instead of blogging out here on the balcony in the light of a nearly-full moon. But when there’s a random accordion, tuba and trumpet playing an off-key waltz to the somewhat harmonic singing of late night revelers somewhere a few properties away—well, let’s just say circumstances aren’t conducive to sleep just now anyway. So I may as well catch up on writing about our experiences traveling across Slovenia on a team-building excursion to recharge after the previous two weeks of active ministry.

Excitement was running high last Friday, a day which awoke to the sight of we eight Canadians climbing into our beloved “Canadian Mule” cube van and driving off into the horizon.  For two hours the cornfields and country-scape to which we had grown accustomed gave way to beautiful, forested foothills as we cruised down the highway. At last, the Mule pulled into our first destination: the famous Postojna Caves.

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Of Camping and Cornfields

Okay, so I have a lot of blogging to catch up on, and this cornfield just outside village limits seemed the perfect place to do it. We have more morning personal time today, but I’m simply not built to spend that long in the house if at all possible—especially in a country like this. Thus, this morning saw me sneak out of the building with my laptop and a handful of European chocolates stashed in my DIY backpack, bound for where I now sit typing on the ground, a few meters deep into an ocean of high green stalks. Looking up, I can just see patches of blue-and-clouded mixed sky between their distinctive narrow leaves. But back to the point of this exercise: writing about our two-day excursion to a young adult camp last week: 

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Onward to Slovenia

It's another quiet night in the little village of Gorica, in Slovenia. Only the hum of some distant highway, the whistling of night insects and the clacking of my keyboard can be heard on this balcony, where I'm writing in view of the first stars.

Ptuj, Slovenia

Fields surrounding our village

This is our fourth night here in Slovenia, and what a time it's been! From helping with four services held everywhere from a hotel in the oldest city of Slovenia to a tent at a Roma community...to trying lots of traditional food...to exploring neighboring villages solo on foot...the past few days have brought forth a host of exciting stories to tell.


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Unforgettable.

Last night, after camp wound up, the balmy sunny evening found our Canadian team debriefing about the week over glasses of Kofala at an outdoor restaurant nestled against a Slovakian woodland. The earthy fragrances of the forest mingled with the savory smell of roast pheasant, grilled duck and venison schnitzel, while Slovakian dancing music filled the air around us. But no one at the table was paying attention to the music--we were all leaning in, intently listening to the Pastor of the church at which we'd been ministering telling us this remarkable story:

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Five Days in Slovakia

(Saturday night, July 9)

This is the kind of moment you don't want to forget. I'm sitting in the living room of our awesome new home base tucked away in a scenic corner of  Slovenian farmland, bordering the town where we met with some local church groups tonight. An acoustic guitar is playing as my team members rehearse the songs we'll be singing at two separate churches tomorrow. The atmosphere is just asking for reflection, so let me tell you about some of the past week's adventures - from wrapping up camp...to waking up early to explore Nové Zámky on foot...to driving across Hungary and arriving at our new Slovenian Base Camp.

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Singing Strangers in Slovakia

All I could think of when we stepped inside the apartment building was that it felt like we were in a scene from God's Smuggler. The outside of the building itself looked enough like the many other such buildings comprising this area: decidedly square, about seven stories high, trees out front, bold colours and patterning painted on the stucco sides. But beyond the glass front door, steep concrete stairs, pale green paint and a retro elevator no larger than a telephone booth are enough to impress one with the sense that the clock has just rewound to another era. Yep, I loved it. Although we had only just arrived in Slovakia, I anticipated that this would be one good billeting experience.

Outside the church where we are running the Kids' Camp

Stepping off the elevator, we walked over to a sixth floor door which opened at once. An older lady was standing behind it, smiling, and she greeted us with a kiss on either cheek. She doesn't speak much English and my roommate and I certainly cannot speak Slovak. Communication, then, has involved a few words of each language, some German phrases, and a lot of Google Translate--with some both hilarious and unfortunate results which I will refrain from repeating here. 

Kofola, a really great Slovakian soft drink
reminiscent of cola--
but spicier with something like aniseed

One of the first Slovak words I learned was "paprika:" pepper. Indeed, breakfast Tuesday morning included meat, bread, tea, tomatoes and peppers. The first pepper slice I had was mild enough, so I had another--not realizing that the seeds have some serious kick to them! Leaving the table, I leaned back to rub my still jet-lagged eyes, and then paused, horrified. My whole face was on fire! Stumbling to the washroom turns out to be a highly difficult task when one's eyes are swollen shut, but it makes for a great learning experience. 

Scene sighted on an evening's stroll through town

But then, learning curves are part of plunging into any new culture, aren't they? And I'm loving the chance to dive (or belly flop) into this one. We've now completed three out of four days of our kids' ministry here, and it's been getting more exciting with each one. I broke out some coloured string to show the kids some of the string figures I've used previously in Mexico and Uganda, and it's been a hit. I thought I had brought enough string for the whole three weeks, but I ran out just three days into ministry! 

Small group time, between singing and English lesson at the camp

The camp days, for which I hope to have more pictures posted soon, have been a blast involving everything from English teaching to playground excursions to dancing to Slovak Sunday School songs. Some real spiritual breakthroughs have seemed to occur here as well. Today, for instance, was the day we presented the message of Jesus, with many of the kids going home at the day's end having been touched by His love. A large portion of the kids are from church backgrounds, as religiosity runs high here, but whether one has grown up in church is irrelevant to whether one has encountered the Living God. And that, I am excited to say, is what has been happening to young hearts here in Slovakia. Please continue to pray for both the children and the Canadian/Slovak leadership team as we wrap up the week of camp here in Nove' Zamky. We seriously can tell that people are praying for us, even from the other side of the world, and that is a blessing we do not take lightly. :)

A Walk in Vienna

July 3, 2016: 2:44 AM MT, 10:45 PM Slovakia Time

I'm sitting here by the open window of an apartment balcony somewhere in the country of Slovakia, listening to the sounds of crickets outside, mingled with the whirring of passing traffic and banter in a foreign language below. It's a beautiful clear summer night, the stars seemingly reflected by the streetlights and glowing apartment windows in the sleepy urban scene below. I should really be sleeping off some jet lag, given our early start tomorrow with the kids' camps, but I just HAD to jot down a few highlights from our journeys in downtown Vienna--the first European city whose streets these feet have touched--before the memories dim.


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Slovakia and Slovenia 2016: Update, Team Day and Take Off

Okay. So it's been awhile.

Our team is ready to fly!

When we last left off, I was instructing young children in the art of wielding hatchets, matches and flaming torches. Two years of west coast post-secondary and one very full summer have passed since then, filled with everything from acquiring a professional ventriloquist dummy and road tripping by midnight bus to handling what turned out to be the most poisonous amphibian on the west coast. Between these highlights, the days have been filled with such activities as studying textbooks, writing exams and working overtime seasonally. Spare moments have involved hiking on the beach, researching apologetics topics and furiously sewing to make the daypack that is now sitting on the airport Tim Horton's bench beside me. (I'm intrigued to see if this DIY pack which I broke seven sewing machines needles trying to assemble will actually hold up during our month-long expedition overseas... Only one way to find out.)

Oh yeah.

And in one hour we board the plane.

Then in a few days, God willing, we will be commencing a week of leading an English Camp for Kids in Slovakia, followed by a couple of weeks of volunteering at various places in Slovenia with our team of 8 Canadians. Afterwards, Jonathan and I plan to take on the UK for a week and do some exploring. If we can navigate the transit systems...

But one crisis at a time.

Like navigating river canoes.

That's right--when we gathered for our Team Building day yesterday, I was thrilled to discover a trailer of sleek, scarlet canoes waiting for us. Within an hour we were cruising past the city skyline on the broad, shining river, watching spray from our paddles--and waterguns--catching in the sunlight. Yes, we definitely had a mid-river water fight!







Later, I found myself in the backseat of a car headed deep into the country bound for an unidentified destination. The adventure turned out to be riflery, meaning that I soon had my hands on a fine-looking 22. I had shot a gun like that before, so wasn't too far out of my comfort zone. But the military rifle and the shot guns--those have kickback, right?

This concerned me a smidgen, but over the past three years I've gotten into the habit of doing scary stuff when given the opportunity, lest I regret it if I don't. This philosophy has landed me in some strange places, such as sitting on bovine's heads surrounded by lasso-wielding horsemen, leaping off high dives, and jumping into vertical caves to see caribou bones. And it's always been worth it, so pick up the larger rifle I did. The kickback was actually rather pleasant, feeling something like a friendly punch in the shoulder by an old pal. And while I'm no Annie Oakley, I did manage to shatter one airborne skeet and nick several others.

But this, I am certain, is only the beginning of regaining an elastic sort of comfort zone. Just when you get comfortable with one degree of stretchiness, God opens the way for you to stretch just a little bit further. Or a lot further. I couldn't be more excited to see what God has in store for our team on this adventure--just how far He'll take us.
And seeing as how we're sitting on the plane now, preparing for take off, it won't be long until we find out!

Adventure Stories

Cooking grilled cheese over a "hobo stove,"
a survival cooker fashioned from a tin can

When's the last time you made grilled marshmallow sandwiches over a hobo stove?

Or practised twisting rabbit snares in a tipi during a hailstorm?

Or spent the night camping in a caboose, or on the top of a climbing wall tower?


Was it the last time you counseled at summer camp? Sweet! Me too!

A hut I built with one of my wrangler friends.
It definitely has some Ugandan influence...

This summer has definitely been a good one for cultivating memories--not to mention jungle skills. It's 10-12-year-old camp right now, in which the campers get to sign up for a "focus skill" to learn their favourite activity in-depth. I'm instructing Wilderness, meaning that I now get to spend thirteen hours a week teaching kids survival skills. We build solar stills to extract water from grass, make sample snares, bake and grill over the fire, lash logs for shelters, build survival kits...

Feathering a stick to make tinder

Of all the sessions I've taught so far, my favourite one happened during a thunderstorm. Since one of the campers was terrified of thunder, we held the activity inside the cabin. Lacking the usual hatchets, knives, matches and firewood, I instead spent a good twenty minutes demonstrating bandana uses: bandaging, pouch-folding, slingshotting cotton balls...

The Caboose, furnished with bunks to camp in

"Tell us an adventure survival story!" someone then asked. "Like the time you were eaten by an alligator or something!"

Well, I didn't have an alligator story. But I DID have a malaria one! The rest of the hour then, was spent in missions adventure storytelling. About me, about the pioneers of old, about the miracles happening to the persecuted church today... It was SO cool to see the wonder in their eyeballs as they heard the true testimonies of God's power, and the daring lives of His followers.

But the power of storytelling doesn't always go from leader to camper. Sometimes it's the other way around. Last Monday as we were making s'mores around our Snack-Out Night fire and sharing testimonies, one little girl put up her hand to say something. She began telling her story, one of immense heartbreak. How could a life that young know so much tragedy? I asked, beginning to feel weighed down until God reminded me "It's alright...it's not your job to carry these kids' burdens. I got this." And sure enough, He did.

On the last night of camp, after we'd gotten everyone finally settled in bed as opposed to bounding wildly across the room singing songs from Frozen, I read from biblical prophecies for devotions. We started in Isaiah, about Jesus, and ended with the Revelation passage about the new heaven and the new earth. As I read, the cabin door creaked open and this girl and another counselor walked in from where they'd been talking after evening chapel.

"Can I tell you what I saw, after?" she asked. I nodded and kept reading. Once we were through, and before I went out to get Bibles for some of the campers, I waited for her to tell her story. What I heard made my jaw drop.

"I heard God tonight," she said quietly. "He said my name and told me I don't have to be scared anymore. And then I saw Him. He opened a big wooden door, and it was very bright inside. I entered and saw my brother (who had been killed in an accident). He said he was ok, and that he was saved. We talked, and then Jesus said it was time to go, but I'd see Him in me dream..."

Your God is alive and well. He's been here for some crazy stuff at camp, and not all the stories make it to this blog. Some of the sights I've seen have been hard: outbreaks of anger, effects of hurt, times of warfare. But His victory is there too, and it's been in some of the craziest times so far that I've known it the most. In every hardship and highlight, He's been with us. He is here, and I wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

A Cry in the Night

My guitar is getting some good use: around campfires,
on sleep-outs, waking up campers in the morning...

Thunk.

My hand, barely visible in the darkness, contacted the rough wood-paneled wall. Floundering its way to the left, the hand struck a new surface--one with some give to it.

Ah, the door.

"I--need--to--use--the--wah-shroom!" A small voice beside me whimpered through the blackness.

"We're getting there," I assured her. If only I 
could find the knob!

(It keeps going! Please click "Read More.")

Camp Life Continues

"Jesus is the Son of God?"  The camper turned to me, her eyes wide with incredulous interest.
"I did not know that."

This girl, like so many, is hungry for answers. Satisfying ones. They want to know about people and God and life and death and eternity, but some of them have never encountered a Bible before. The stories of history told therein are entirely new. Other children have had glimpses of Jesus here and there, unanchored fragments


A perfect footprint impression,
outlined in a puddle of residual bug spray

that rotate like loose pieces of a half-missing jigsaw puzzle. Gathering their pieces together, they ask:

"But can't you only be a Christian if you go to a Christian school? That's what my friends say."

"Don't people become angels when they die?"


"Why did God create bad guys?"

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Tangent, the Un-Magical

First full day, almost done.


I looked down from where I sat on the grass, past the rows of heads in front of me, past the gazebo where we were having chapel, past the thick poplar forest, to where the hills beyond met a low summer sky. How long ago it seemed that I'd been standing on the archery range, instructing during morning activities! Between plugged toilets, cabin politics, behavioural issues and other challenges, it seemed as though I'd been quenching little fires all day.

A rainbow over the road thrills my cabin group

I still loved camp. Loved the flow of life at camp. Loved the idea of working with God through all the intensity of camp. But looking back on the day, the only words I could think of were "when it rains, it pours." The sight of blood interrupted these thoughts. Rifling through my bag, I found a Kleenex for the tooth someone had just pulled out during chapel. Suddenly, I heard my camp name being called.

(To read of my looming blunder, please click Read More...)

Welcome to Your New World

"Archers to the line!"

Ten grass-stained sneakers march five aspiring young Robinhoods towards the shooting range.

"Ready on the line."

Ten sets of toes step into position, pointing in the correct direction, beside five wooden bows.

"Pick up your bows..."

Five elfen hands wrap themselves eagerly around the sleek bows. You jog down the line, ensuring every hand has found its correct place on the instrument. Arrow rests up, bowstrings under the left forearm...good.

"Knock your arrows..."

 As five dull "click's" sound though the hot summer air, the last command is on your tongue.

"Aim and fire at will."

A single thwack resounds as one of the arrows embeds itself into the target. Boings, thuds, and clatters accompany the sound, depending on the direction of the other arrows. By the time those ten sneakers patter away from the range however, many more thwacks have brought satisfaction to the shooters. You're grinning too, content in your assigned role as this weeks' morning archery instructor. Still thinking about the expression of bewildered elation on the face of the little girl who hit the bullseye this morning, you put away the targets and rehang the last bow.

On to the next task.

Chapels are almost always held in serene outdoor settings,
such as this meadow. Open fires, acoustic guitars, campfire songs...
It doesn't get much better than this.

A remarkable make-over one of my delightful
young ladies gave me

Joining your campers, co-leading Bible study on top of the climbing tower, attempting to form a line for Canteen, moving through afternoon activities and finally heading to an outdoor chapel service all follow. These sound like they should be easy tasks. But to refer to the act of "keeping eight energetic ten-year-olds in the same general vicinity and running in the same general direction for 23 hours a day" as "daunting" would be an understatement met with raised, weary eyebrows.

 Why this particular work is especially challenging--and especially rewarding--is that, as its poster explains, this camp runs for foster home, group home and single-parent families. Because of the challenges campers sometimes face, you as a staffer encounter things here that may be different from "regular" camps. But that's what sets this summer apart as especially for ministry. In a place where you realize you could never accomplish a thing by your own ability, God more often is given His proper place as Power Source. And living through Him wherever you are, whether volunteering abroad or writing papers at home or teaching archery at camp, is the best place you could be.

Training, Continued

The second week of staff training--the week I'm in the middle of now--has been all about learning. We've heard seminars on behavioural challenges, worked in sessions for developing Bible studies, fought water fights...practical stuff. It's the workshops that we're taking about Bible study development and story-telling effects that really have me excited. Not only do we get to build our own cabin studies about a particular Bible story (this year from the biblical book of Joshua), but we can sign up for the opportunity to give messages in chapel illustrated with (guess what!) animal balloons and magic tricks! Some of the illusions I'll be learning are ones at which I used to marvel as a youngster myself, on the receiving end of kids' ministry. Between those and the chance to expand my balloon skills, I'm pretty "pumped."

In other news, getting into the routine of camp life has meant becoming integrated to a culture all of its own. For one thing, as a new staff member you must mandatorily be given a "camp name." Mine, after one or two attempts, finally stuck with "Tangent." Sounds adventuresome enough...

For another thing, you begin to realize that, as a group of camp staff, you have together become a distinct and noble tribe. By the smell of bug spray perpetually clinging to your population, the varying degrees of sunburn on every face, and the essence of campfire smoke on everyone's clothes, you can readily identify one another as members of the clan. You realize that in only a few days this staff, united in Spirit and sunburn, will be opening bug-spray perfumed arms to welcome busloads of excited campers. Here goes something...

Training. Begins, Now.

"Smackos," s'mores tacos, sizzling in anticipation of
the snack-out we'll have with campers every Tuesday

"Everybody's got a water buffalo..." the a cappella strains of this familiar tune, traditionally sung by a cucumber, echoed through the gym as we fought to keep our grip on the water buffalo's head. I don't know if you've ever clung to the face of a long-soul-less water buffalo before, its blunt, breathless nose extending awkwardly close to your own. If so, you'll know that it's the stuff memories are made of. If not, you can probably imagine.





In case you're wondering why staff training for summer camp has me wrestling large, taxidermied African mammals, don't worry: I'll get to that. First things first.



Training, Day One:

On our first full day of training, while most of the staff sat in a first aid course, I dangled precariously from a precipice. --Ok, actually more of a tower. The climbing wall tower, to be exact. The entire day being devoted to literally "learning the ropes" of how to lead wall climbing, I learned how to set up, check equipment, instruct campers, tie knots, and belay climbers. We also got to climb a good deal, and to practice belaying each other. --And to lie on the grass and eat freezies.

The next two days were all about SET UP! Washing, wiping, moving, organizing, assembling, mopping, wrestling that buffalo head out of the music and drama room we were organizing... Moments in between sometimes included a trip to the staff lounge to visit its bottomless supplies of Gatorade, chocolate bars and candy! Oh yeah, and fresh fruit and granola bars. This is shaping up to be a great summer...