Dawn Patrol pictures

Dawn Patrol

Dawn Patrol - Phil alluded to this in his previous post. It is getting to the beach earlier than the dawn and . . . well, patrolling. I'm not sure what all those guys / girls out there are patrolling for - maybe the beasties also mentioned previously.

Anyway - this was Saturday and my first time in a long time to join the action. Not in the water, though! I patrolled from the shore and record the events of the morning from afar. I've never heard of anyone being bitten by a shark while comfortably ensconced in a beach chair forty feet from shore.

I took quite a few pictures so thought I'd share the dawn and beach scenes of Hawaii. Hope you enjoy

Just call me Nosetradamage

A Twilight Zone experience befell me on Thursday, August 16th. I was awakened by a very powerful dream the crux of which were the words “You need help!” Soon I would! Hurricane Flossie was more of a HoHumicane. It provided a slight bump in the wind and the surf. Surfing buddy and good friend Doyle Smith and I met for some dawn patrol at White Plains beach. The waves were moderate but choppy. The conditions were not inviting. We paddled out and were waiting for the next set when I noticed that a wave a little larger than the rest was coming our way. As I have hundreds of times before I paddled into the breaking wave knowing exactly what to expect – the wave would throw the nose of the board at my face. It did and for that I was prepared. What I did not expect and have not experienced in forty some years of surfing was the breaking wave, much like a large powerful hand, slamming my lovely head into the rising nose of the board. We met underwater and the old sensations (surprisingly, one of smell) of being belted stoutly in the nose were revived. I came up out of the wave and could see the bridge of the nose was already swollen. In fact, it looked broken. Keep in mind that in February of this year this same nose endured significant repairs.

It is also a good time to point out that occasionally we arrive at the same beach to discover signs posted warning of sharks. They are always in the area. So, here I am bleeding from a laceration across the bridge of the nose and bleeding from both nostrils in waters known to be inhabited by blood loving beasties. I immediately surrendered all thoughts of continuing to surf and began the long paddle to shore. Doyle, God bless him, stayed with me keeping an eye out for waves, beasties and to insure that I would not fall off the board and try to breathe underwater. Just like the dream said, I needed help. What the dream failed to mention was that a brother in Christ would provide that help.

The swelling has subsided. The jokes regarding husband abuse are growing. Sandy dragged me to the hospital where a surfer/doctor commiserated with me, found that the nose is not broken and cleared me for more surfing. Thank you, Doyle! Thank you, Sandy! Thank you, Lord!

Overstuffed

An overstuffed sofa – that is the primo metaphor for our three weeks in Germany, France and England. We were overwhelmed with eye candy. Stuffed we were with food (many miles of jogging stand between me and the restoration of my formerly svelte self.) Most of all, we were filled to overflowing with fellowship. The family of God is alive and well in the Old Countries.

For those concerned for the well being of Bill and KathaLee Harris, don’t be! Their German castle sits atop a mountain where it gazes down upon a lush green valley divided by a gentle winding river. The issues they face are difficulties with deer, fox and decisions about incredibly delicious food will they have to dine upon this evening. Their neighbors are friendly, their congregation is warm and Germany suits them well. Rufus, their four legged son, is every inch a handsome and spirited gentledog; well-within-the-bounds of doggy decorum. All is well! And to Bill, KathaLee and Rufus, thank you and God bless you for the incredible vistas, the gift of your friendship and the spiritual healing that you bestow upon tattered souls

For the sake of good taste we will not discuss any adventures in the MacDonald’s WC in France. It is sufficient to report that ardent prayer works, cheap stall locks do withstand attempted breechings by teenage girls and everything negative reported about French TP is true.

At the airport in England the lovely Linda O’Donovan met us. It is always a pleasure to see her but especially when arriving at Stansted. Thank you and God bless you Linda! Linda and Vince decided we and the congregation at Brandon needed one of those life changing shocks. For the saints it is a big one: The O’Donovan’s are moving to Scotland. Brandon’s loss is a blessing for the churches in William Wallace land. Vince and Linda showered us with their time, taking us to Stratford-on-Avon and Warwick castle. Linda, lady of faith that she is, provided us with the use of her car. Yes, it did survive although my driving on the wrong side almost induced heart failure in Sandy.

Also at Brandon we were reunited with the Powers. To those of you who know Mike, Donna, Stephen and Heather the following litany will be of no surprise. Donna recently had surgery, not to be out done a few months back Heather enjoyed a broken wrist, Stephen got married, their dog was hit by a car and recovered, and Mike broke his knee. Notwithstanding, the painful knee Mike hauled us to Cambridge where we 1) punted on the Cam, 2) ate at Auntie’s Tea Room, 3) purchased official Cambridge University shirts, 4) visited G. David’s used book heaven (A back alley store overstuffed with important and/or arcane books – only one box full this trip) and 5) a quick visit to Rohan’s to purchase a few quality clothing items. (Visit their UK website to appreciate their rugged clothing). That was astuffed day, especially for the dude with the knee issue. Thank you Mike!

Sandy, “overstuffed” with a sense of loyalty and duty, left for the States and I went on to Bristol to inflict myself upon Trevor and Pauline Williams and Vince and Linda’s daughter Marie (She is one of those natural surfers, up and riding waves as though she has been riding all of her life. Trevor and Pauline are what I wish circumstances would permit Sandy and me to be as we were in the Philippines – a true team. To be in their presence is a spiritual gift. Their synergy is palpable. The Bristol congregation reflects much of the goodness that radiates from the Williams. They kindly sacrificed time to take me to experience so much of Bristol’s history. Several personal desires were met including, in the manner of Jane Austin, taking water at the Bath.

Hanging around with “Trev and Pauline” it becomes very apparent that the reach of their service in the Lord’s name knows no borders. Both are serving the lost and saved in Malawi, Africa. What they are accomplishing is heartening – stuffs the heart with joy. One example: Pauline took an idea from one of the African ladies and made it happen. It is common for a child to be orphaned. Placement in an orphanage doesn’t really met the need of a long term extended family so necessary for survival in impoverished nations. Pauline was able to take funds to Africa and those funds are used to support the orphan who is placed with other family members, grandparents are typical. The child grows up within the family, as part of the family. Being in the company of the Williams family for those few days served to “overstuff” my appreciation for the power of God working in the lives of these two remarkable saints.

I also had too few moments with their co-worker Jason. Jason is an American. This young man was extremely helpful. I am grateful for his kindness.

And so our “overstuffed” journey concluded. Now I arrive at a conundrum – I don’t know how to make the following read as though it isn’t just a preacher trying to justify his “overstuffed” paycheck by validating Deity. Be that as it may, the travel itself seemed to be divinely accomplished. One example: Upon arrival at Gatwick airport in London we had to travel to Stansted to catch our next flight. Time was of the essence. Two trains and one tube ride were required. We made all three connections with three minutes to spare. We purchased our tickets and arrived on the platform three minutes prior to departure on each occasion. One slip up and we would probably miss our flight. Thank you, Lord! Then the flight home: Old knees and airplane seats do not mix well. Flights can be painful. However, on the ten hour jaunt from London to Las Vegas I was blessed to have three seats to myself. I actually got to sleep. I arrived at San Francisco while the flight to Honolulu was boarding. The flight was overbooked (“overstuffed”) and my chances for the flight home were not promising. The last name was called and it was mine. When I received the ticket the agent noted that I was traveling to Hawaii first class. Me and my knees praised God for “overstuffing” our journey with His mercies. Thank you, Lord!

A Pig 'n a Poke?

The above description is slightly in error. The lovely Mrs. Terry and I have been, as of the 12th of June, married for Thirty Years. To celebrate the anniversary in a manner that would share the joy with all of America we are traveling to Germany and England. In Germany, KathaLee, Bill and Rufus Harris will suffer our presence and all the silliness that erupts when “Digger” and “Stitch” are together. Then it is on to the mother country (England) where the two of us will consume as much tea, oak smoked cheese and fellowship with Vince and Linda O’Donovan, Mike and Donna Powers and all those wonderful saints at Brandon. Two weeks into the journey Sandy will depart for Hawaii to return to work. Yes, that means I will be in a foreign country without proper supervision (Pray for the English). Off leash I will attempt to travel to Bristol to visit Trevor and Pauline Williams (what delightful attitudes they radiate) and, hopefully, Marie O’Donovan, Vince and Linda’s daughter and fellow-surfer. The last lap will be to London to catch a flight back to Hawaii and my darling wife.

All this would not have been possible without a pig, a poke and patience. Allow me to explain! In 2003 before our first trip to England the Harris’ purchased, painted (with a union jack) and “fed” a piggy bank (purchased from a road-side vender.) Sandy and I kept feeding the pig untill a few weeks ago. When we turned the change in at the bank the poor teller mentioned that a lot of people bring in change but she had not experienced quite that many coins previously.
The “poke” is a secret collection put together by members of the congregation and just given to us the Sunday before our departure. The funds so generously bestowed will allow us to travel without “fund fretting.” Thank you. And a very special thank you to the elders of the congregation and to those generous souls who are assuming my responsibilities – their patience is deeply appreciated. God bless you one and all.

Mr. Timmons, does this satisfy the need?

April Texas Trip

Hope you all enjoy the pictures from our trip to Texas.

Buy a nose!

1963. Late August or early September. Dumont, New Jersey. A high school football scrimmage between Ridgewood and Dumont. A line man grabs a face mask and pulls it down. A back runs up and throws a punch. That was the first of a number of broken noses. Dr. Tomlins straightened it, taped it and sent the nose back into the game. The worst came a year and a month or two later. During practice a team mate caught the running back but couldn’t bring him down. The owner of the oft injured proboscis arrived to assist and was welcomed with an elbow to the nose. The bones shattered and one pierced the skin. The result was a blockage. Through the years the blockage became progressively more pronounced. In conjunction with that progression a night’s sleep became increasingly rare.

44 years later and after almost 30 years of marriage Sandy was inspired to suggest that the old nose receive the attention of the medical profession. Perhaps something could done. It could. The nose was painlessly repaired. Oxygen reached places untouched for years. Best of all, night after night of uninterrupted sleep. Life is so good. Thank you, Sandy. Thank you, doctor. Thank you, God.
This picture was taken after the surgery. The young man is Philip Kingsley.