Forest pictures

The pictures from the recent forest trip via helicopter are now uploaded on FB. 

The Rain Forest

Yesterday we flew into the rainforest via helicopter. We left Tana at 8 AM. 

We landed in three small villages northeast of Antanarivo.  By air it only took about 1 hour. 
By road, it would have taken 8 by car followed by another 8 hours  on foot walking along the narrow trails.  

Five of us piled into the helicopter.  A Malagasy pastor, a Malagasy doctor, my missionary doctor colleague, a visiting business man from the US who raises money for missions projects in madagascar, and myself.  To say it was an unforgettable experience would be the understatement of 2012.  This is only the second time in my life I've actually flown in a helicopter.  

From the air the first village looked like a small cluster of huts nestled in the forested valley with several rice fields extending in either direction along the winding river.  Our pilot found the widest rice field available and gently settled the helicopter down. As he did people appeared from everywhere.  Most came running, others pointed curiously,  some stood back reluctantly watching from a safe distance.  Even the mangy dogs of the village barked in trepidation as every hair on their back bristled.  And who can blame them! A helicopter with three white people suddenly appearing in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  

We carried a small self-powered speaker so that we could communicate easily with the growing crowd of people.  Pastor Zaka introduced us, relayed the medical nature of our mission, and shared a brief Gospel presentation.   Then the hard-work began.  The sick were instructed to line up for an opportunity to consult with Dr. Fils and my dear missionary colleague doctor Aaron Santymire.  For nearly 2 hours in the scorching heat we examined some of the most precious Malagasy people I've ever seen.  Some complained of mild headaches and backaches. Others were so weak they could hardly stand. One little boy had a massive infection on the side of his face that caused his face to be completely distorted.  I searched through the medicine bags as the doctors told me what each patient required. Then we would pray for the desperately sick.   

I asked about the church.  "There is no church," came the reply.  "Where is the closest one" I asked?  "At least an 8 hour walk from here."  As far as we could tell this is  the first time the Gospel message has been announced in this village.   

After treating some fifty people we announced that we had to leave to continue to the next village.  Some thirty plus people didn't get the chance to see the doctors.  This was disheartening, but we made every effort to see the critically ill.   

Arriving in the next village we set down in a makeshift soccer field.  Again people came running from everywhere.  This time around Zaka turned to me- "your turn." I stood and shared from John 14.  Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. I talked about the way to heaven.  I talked about the accuracy of following this way.  I finished with the experience of following this way--life and life more abundantly.  Holy Spirit moved in a special way and many raised their hands to receive Christ.  In this village, the church is strong and there is a pastor who has even been to our Bible school in Tana.  

Then came the third village.  This one was the most cut off of them all.  The people here still wear traditional clothing of vests and hats.  As we landed, Zaka asked me to preach again.  So I did. Basically, the same message as before.  However, here the spiritual resistance was very strong.  As far as we can tell this is only the second time that the Gospel has been preached here.  There is no church for this area of some  1,900 people.  

The pastor from village number 2  started a cell group here earlier this year. He has some 6 or 7 believers that gather together on Wednesday afternoons.  He walks four hours to be in attendance.   As I shared one lady, clearly one of the few believers kept shouting: "hallelujah."  Her faith was brilliant.  

Following the message, we lined up the sick and began to treat as best as we knew how and pray for the critically ill.   As we packed up the helicopter to leave the little group of believers began to sing beautiful songs of praise and worship.  Some in the crowd laughed at them.  Others looked on curiously.  To me it was a bold testimony of faith for these new believers.  

I conclude as I started by saying that it was unforgettable.   Would you please pray for this forested region of Madagascar?  Desperately in need of the light of Christ! Desperately in need of laborers.  

I will be posting pics and videos on my FB page in the days to come.  

It's Our Turn Now

Sometimes people ask me what ministry on a Sunday AM looks like in Madagascar. Good question.  Here is a brief summary of the day.

I arrived at Ampititafika at 9:00 AM.  I left my car on the street and descended through the winding neighborhood towards Pastor John's church.  I passed the little bakery cooking mofogasy (rice bread) over a fire, a charcoal depot, several open sewers, piles of garbage, several mangy dogs, and some of the most beautiful kids I've ever seen dressed mostly in rags.

Arriving at the church building, the congregation of several hundred had already assembled and the service started right away.  We sang several  choruses as the team of musicians lead us in praise.  Every window and door in the building was open and the wind whipped through the concrete building. It was so cold my body was shaking. Fortunately, I had my NorthFace jacket thanks to Matt & Grace Johnson that kept me from hypothermia.

Soon the songs transitioned to a quieter more reverent feel.  Many lifted their hands as we continued singing. There was a beautiful sense of Christ's presence.  Pastor took charge of the service after some 45 minutes and called the congregation to pray.  We lifted our voices to the Lord.  He then asked me to come forward and share the Word of God.

The message's title today was "It's Our Turn Now."   I preached on the race of faith and the upward call.  I looked at  Hebrews 11:39-12:3.  It's a beautiful passage talking about the great exploits of faith performed in the past by the heroes of the faith of the Old Testament.  They now form  a cloud of witnesses waiting to see our race of faith. They are heaven's spectators cheering us home.  Why are they so intent on our race?  God has prepared something good for those mentioned in chapter 11 only together with us!

Our race of faith has more significance than the Olympics or any race run in London the past 3 weeks.  Our race is one that will build off of the efforts of previous generations.  Likewise previous generations are depending on our race.  Together we are called to inherit the promises of God.

Thus, we are the heroes of faith in this generation.  It is our turn now.

Three verbs are given to us to help us in this race:  "throw off", "run", "fix our eyes".   I won't take time to develop the points.  However, here  they are:  We must cast off everything that hinders and the sin that entangles because it is our turn now.  We must run our race! It is our turn now.  We must look unto Jesus staying away from the distractions that pull us from Him.  It is our turn now.

Several illustrations conveyed the message:  I took off my dress shoes and put on my running shoes reiterating the importance of being ready.  I had several back-packs that I loaded myself up with to demonstrate the futility of trying to run when we are carrying sin and different hindrances.  I had a stick that I hobbled with representing the futility of trying to run when you are carrying wounds and offenses.

I concluded by challenging people to make a fresh commitment to their race of faith. No two are the same. Your race of faith is not mine; and mine is not yours.  Instead of comparing each other and being jealous or criticizing, we must actually get in the race and RUN! It's our turn now.

Many came forward to seek God at the close of the service. There was a brokenness in the room.  People wept as the forgave each other and let God heal the wounds of the past.  It was beautiful.

Somewhere near 12.00 service dismissed.  A group lingered in the back corner praying for a young lady possessed by evil spirits.  She shrieked and cried as the demons were cast out.

Pastor invited me upstairs to a hall where the church had prepared lunch.  We ate mountains of rice with some kind of a chicken veggie stir-fry and pork chops cooked with peas.  Pastor's wife knows I love squash so she had prepared a special dish just for me.   I felt so honored! Several visiting pastors sat around the table.  They were in town for the just concluded national conference for the AG.  We had a great time talking and telling stories.    

Somewhere around 2:15 I headed back towards my car.  A self-appointed watchman hit me up for money as I approached the car. I had no problem helping him out.

There you have it.

I close with this simple challenge: It's YOUR TURN NOW.  

A Season of Firsts

In the past two weeks I have experienced several things for the first time.  For example, I had crocodile meat for lunch for the first time (I've had crocodile before, but never for lunch).  I taught Daniel and Revelation (Biblical Apocalyptic Literature) in French for the first time.  I've taught this course before, but never in French. I had three days to do so.  What long, full days they were!

 I cooked my first gluten free pizza using almond flour, red rice flour, white rice flour, agar-agar, and manioc flour. It turned out really delicious in case you are wondering.  Inspired by my success with the pizza I proceeded to make peanut-butter from scratch for the first time.  I then tried my hand at Almond milk with vanilla. Yes, I am a health nerd.

I cooked lunch, dinner, and breakfast for a tanzanian missionary living here in Madagascar who needed a place to stay for the night.  This was a first to host a Tanzanian at my house here in Madagascar.

 I ran 7.5 km for the first time in my life. That's almost 5 miles. Maybe not a huge achievement for some, but a major milestone for me considering I couldn't hardly get out of bed one year ago.

 I also survived my first Malagasy coup- it lasted for about 12 hours with plenty of machine gun exchanges just a few kilometers from the house.  Yes, I have lived through many similar ones in Burundi, but this was the first time to experience the Malagasy version.  

I started learning how to use Final Cut Pro X for the first time in order to make teaching videos for the MAG.  This forced me to use a movie camera that operates off HDSD cards- also a first for me.  I really like the reverse effect by the way.  It seems like a really neat program, but I still like Adobe better.

I carried on my first ten minute conversation in Malagasy about gardening, firewood, church, and exercise. This was a major step forward linguistically after studying for all these months.   Yes, it is a season of firsts.  All of these things happened while being in Madagascar and being engaged to lovely Ms. Bailey Seng.  Yes, firsts are fun. They keep life exciting and the mind stimulated.  

Among the firsts, there is none more important than keeping our spiritual passion and fervor alive.  For me this revolves around one idea: "seek first the Kingdom".  I find that as long as the first first  among my list of firsts and lasts in any given day is to seek HIM first as the King of my life then all the other firsts find their proper place.  A surrender to His Kingdom (the rule and influence of the King) in my life  aligns my daily perspective giving me a first or predominating desire and a singular ambition: to know Him and make Him known. This must always be FIRST and FOREMOST.

Without a yearning for this  FIRST, I become FIRST. And for those who know me when I am FIRST you well know that it's not a pretty picture.  However, when He is FIRST, the fragrance and sweetness of heaven fills my heart giving me joy and enthusiasm to keep enjoying firsts as I seek to continue making Him FIRST.

Problems at the Post Office

       In the not too distant past I received a slip in the mail notifying me of the arrival of a package.  After asking my team leader about how one normally clears a  package in Madagascar, I headed off to the post office. As an after-thought, I decided to bring my language tutor along. Off we went with high hopes of collecting some wonderful care package from concerned friends in the USA loaded with delicious goodies! 

      Entering the post office we saw 3 postal employees busily talking with each other.  As I waited to be serviced, I imagined what treats might be in my parcel. Almonds? Flax seeds? Rice chips? (Yes, I am a health food nut.)   After several minutes, I realized that no one was moving in our direction. "Azafady" (excuse me) I said sure that the clerks simply hadn't noticed the 6 foot 2  white guy standing in the rather minuscule post office looking at them from close proximity. 

"How can I help you?" one of the women asked somewhat annoyed.  I turned to Manny my language tutor indicating that he should continue the conversation.  As Manny delved into the explanation for our presence, I was sure that were on the right track. A few moments later, the lady asked for the parcel slip.  I gladly turned it over to her expecting a package to be placed into my hands momentarily.  She looked at it from every possible angle before showing it to her two colleagues.  'Hmm... the package  awaiting me must be extra special...requiring several people's input.' This is going to be a good one well worth the wait! 

Surprisingly, the woman turned back to Manny and rattled off something in Malagasy for several moments.  In a very sheepish voice Manny started translating, "errr...ummm....she wants to know what this is?"  

"What do you mean?" I asked.  "It's a parcel slip." 

What kind of crazy question is that I thought to myself. Surely she must be joking. Malagasy humor or something maybe? 

"Err...she wants to know what  a parcel slip is.."Manny continued

"What?" I asked in disbelief.  What kind of post office is this I thought to myself? 

"Alright, Manny please translate for me." 

"So I received this parcel slip in our mailbox indicating that the is package waiting for me elsewhere in the post office.  And now I'm here to pick  it up." Manny translated.   The woman listened impatiently before responding. 

"We don't handle packages in the post office," came her curt response. 

"Umm..listen...I just want to pick up my package...and this is a post office" I replied.  

"That's not our postal slip. And we don't have your package......"  Her tone of voice had changed and she almost sounded belligerent. I didn't understand much of what she was saying, but I could tell it wasn't very nice.   

 "We should go now," Manny whispered as the woman continued berating us for wanting to pick up a postal package at a post office with a postal slip. 

All my hopes of some delicious treasures from a health food store in America vanished as I followed Manny out of the post office. 

I thought about how easily hope can be misplaced.  

When hope is misplaced disappointment sets in leading to any number of nasty conditions: bitterness, cynicism, trust issues, fear, worry, etc...  

Thankfully, there is one sure person who never betrays our hope.  Man will disappoint us. Organizations will fail.  Leaders will waffle. Economies will reel.  And Post Offices will ignore their mandates.  But the great news is that  Jesus never fails. He never waffles.  He is steadfast and faithful. He keeps His Word. He fulfills His promises.  He can be trusted entirely.  

Isaiah 40:31 "Those who HOPE in the LORD will renew their strength." 

The Consistent CALCIUM Convert

Not so long ago, in a Bible school classroom  not so very far away as I was teaching Expository Preaching to a group of 14 pastors:  

One of the students, aware of my most recent physical issues  decided to give  me some free medical advice during the break.

 "You know missionary, I can tell you what the problem is."   Less than convinced, I asked half-heartedly, "what's that my friend?"  

The answer surprised me.  In the past 2 years I've seen some of the best specialists in the United States. Their evaluations have ranged from systemic yeast infection, parasites, immune system dysfunctions,  vitamins and mineral deficiencies, etc.. 

 The pastor turned medical professional shared his advice: "Calcium deficiency."  

"Sorry?" I asked.  "You know....dairy products! It's the key!" His voice was enthusiastic and full of passion.  

"Really?" I asked somewhat amused.  "Oh yes! You must eat lots of cheese, white cheeses, yellow cheeses, soft cheeses, hard cheeses, and of course,  drink plenty of milk in the morning, hot chocolate, etc... and don't forget to  drink your yoghurt.  The key is to be CONSISTENT."   He then proceeded to tell me story after story of people that he knew who had been chronically ill, only to miraculously recover after implementing the dairy diet with consistency.  

As we parted ways, I thought to myself- "how random. Why dairy? Why so passionate?" 

Several weeks later the mystery was solved for me. At dinner my friend Nate Lashway explained  that during the socialistic days of Madagascar medical professionals were all instructed to give the same advice to the ill: "Calcium deficiency." 

If you had malaria, take calcium supplements.  If you were afflicted with  high blood pressure, there was one sure cure: calcium.  Diabetes? Yep, you guessed it- calcium.  Chronic fatigue anyone? Load up on the calcium.   Heart trouble? Calcium. Stomach trouble? Calcium.   

The light came on.  My dear pastor friend was merely speaking the conventional wisdom of the society he grew up in.  He had heard the calcium deficiency routine for so long that he know believed it and espoused it whole-heartedly.  "Missionary you need a consistent source of calcium in your diet."  The best way to do that is of course to increase your dairy intake.  He was merely being a good spokesman and representative of decades of consistent Malagasy medical advice.  He had become a Calcium Convert and naturally wished to make me one too.   

As I thought about this humorous incident, especially for someone who battles dairy intolerance, I thought about this idea of being consistent. 

 Someone once asked the question: "what is the most powerful kind of prayer?"  The answer: "consistent prayer."  What is the best  kind of Bible reading? Consistent Bible reading. I love it when the Lord's presence is so near and sweet in my personal devotional times.  I thoroughly enjoy  studying the scriptures when it seems alive and vibrant.  However, whether I "feel" the Lord present or not- consistency remains the key to maturity.  Aristotle is quoted as saying: "we are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."  Consistency in our walk with the Lord produces the  same results. It is based on two simple ingredients: the word and prayer.   

Feeling some fear? Let the word give you courage.  Feeling lonely? consistent communication with heaven will help drastically.  Facing challenges?  Seek heavenly direction.  Overwhelmed? His peace is still available.  Decisions?  His word and His presence produce wisdom in us.  Weary spiritually? consistent times in his presence will renew you.   When I'm stressed, anxious, worried, uncertain, or fearful there is usually at least one major reason behind it: I haven't been consistent with the Lord. 

Too simple you say?  Could it be time for some consistency in your spiritual diet? 

MANAKARA OR BUST

We left the capital at 6:00 AM.  Everyone assured me that we would be able to make it to Manakara before sundown. Normally, the trip takes 12 hours to navigate the 650km  (420 miles).  It's the most intense road-trip I've ever undertaken: winding roads, tropical forests, washed out sections of the highway, occasional bandits,  massive potholes, etc...

The windy roads cutting zigzags through the rain forest leave the average passenger nauseated by the end of hour number one.  The views are spectacular though: bamboo forests interspersed with traveler's palms, forested ravines that drop several hundred meters into the riverbeds below, waterfalls, and of course, the ever present rice patties cut out of the lush overgrowth.

As the first vestiges of dusk started to settle over beautiful landscape we still had  one hundred kilometers remaining in our journey.  Rounding an isolated corner, we came upon a  traveler's worst nightmare in Africa: parked trucks along the side of the road.  This line was several kilometers long.

We quickly asked what was going on-- the road had washed out ahead and had been that way for several weeks.  Sigh! So much for 12 hours. There was a diversion cut through the rainforest, but the heavy rains that week had made it almost impassable.  To further complicate the situation, there was no electricity for kilometers, no place to stay, no food, and no cell phone coverage.  This was Africa at it's finest.

We decided to turn around and head back to the nearest town to find lodging and cell phone coverage.  By now, 14 hours had lapsed.  In a little restaurant, we found someone with a cell phone that worked. No electricity though.  We ate some kind of a rice dinner in the dark, found a hotel room for $4 a night above the local bar, and decided to get some sleep. Unfortunately, my two traveling companions decided this was the perfect time to relive the days events.  Somewhere around midnight I finally found my IPHONE and put on some music to drown out their voices.

At 6:00 AM sharp we headed back to the diversion. We were the first ones to try to navigate it that day.  Several vehicles had been stuck in the deep mud the day before.  Only a couple hundred meters down the track we were stuck! A group of men emerged, offered their services, and ran behind our vehicle.  For the next 5 kilometers the process would repeat itself: we get stuck, they push, we drive, they run behind us, we get stuck, they push, we drive, etc..  Mud covered we finally pulled into Manakara  a full 26 hours later exhausted, but with quite a story to tell!

The days that followed proved to be some of the most fruitful ministry I've had since coming to Madagascar.  God worked in tremendous fashion encouraging, strengthening, and empowering His people there!

Printing Malagasy style

Fourteen students decided to take the upcoming course at the Bible school. Unfortunately, we only have ten study guides available. Since shipping anything this way takes so long, we decided to get the digital files and print five more books here. (Just in case another student shows up last minute.) In theory, it was a good idea.

I spent two hours printing off the 310 page study guide with a 67 page accompanying student guide. The printer jammed multiple times resulting in blurred images, double pages, and print streaks down the pages instead of words. Having to reprint multiple pages meant I ran out of paper several times. But in the end I had it! My morning's masterpiece. I felt a great sense of accomplishment when I finally jumped in the car to head to the print shop, with my masterpiece in hand.

Entering the print shop, I was overwhelmed by the crowd of people attempting to get their documents printed. There's no order, line, or number. It's a free for all, where the first come is the first served. People cut in front of you, push you to the side, and elbow you. In brilliant fashion I elbowed my way to the front all the while being careful to protect my masterpiece.

The man behind the counter asked me what I needed. "FIVE copies each of these books, bound, and with a plastic cover," I responded as I showed him the fruit of my brilliant idea. He just stared at me. I thought maybe he hadn't understood me correctly. So I repeated myself again wondering if I had mixed up a French word somewhere.

The gentleman helping me continued to look at me in disbelief. "This will take a really long time," he finally muttered. "Don't you have the digital files?" Of course, I have the digital files, but that isn't the point. I spent two solid hours battling the printer.

As I looked around it suddenly occurred to me: I was the only person in the entire shop who actually had paper in their hands. All the other customers around me where handing the various sales reps flash drives. "Where am I?" I thought to myself. "Madagascar has jumped into the 21st century and left me in the dust."

Within moments of retracting my preposterous pile of papers and pulling the appropriate digital files off my laptop, the work began. The service rep had a smile on his face keenly aware that I had just learned a valuable lesson.

Sometimes I wonder if there is spiritual parallel to such incidents. Could it be that at times we are so busy trying to get God to do things our way, to fit into our agenda, our well-thought out strategy, and brilliant plan that we actually miss out on what He is doing? I find so many believers who derive their sense of satisfaction and identity from working really really hard for the Lord.

Working hard is good; don't misunderstand me, but not when it's fueling our own sense of pride, ego, and self-satisfaction. That's spiritual arrogance; not servanthood. I think many wear themselves out spiritually because they are too proud to seek the Lord and get His help and advice. "Too simple!" they chime. "After all, I know a thing or two and have a good sense of how this needs to be done." All the while I wonder if the Lord has a look of disbelief on His face, "Just how complicated do you want to make this?"

"God opposes the proud, but shows favor to the humble." I Peter 5:5b. Is it time to get out the spiritual flash drive?

Cockroaches Part 2

Cockroaches seem to be a part of life here in Madagascar. Roaches in the shower, par for the course. Roaches on the table, apparently a normal occurrence. My recent experience with roaches in the hotel room is deemed quite normal by most people that I've interacted with here. Just a few days ago I would watch in horror as a giant roach would slither across the floor of the restaurant; now I'm almost oblivious.

Tonight at dinner I watched a massive one calmly slither across the floor of a very nice place without giving it a second thought. Yes, it's true. I'm becoming hardened to the presence of roaches. It no longer seems to bother me. However, one story did.

A friend of mine here in Madagascar sleeps with earplugs. During the night she headed to the restroom. At some point she realizes that one of her earplugs has fallen out. Hoping to find it before returning to bed, she takes a quick glance at the floor around her. Still somewhat groggy and not wanting to turn on the light, she sees what seems to be to her an ear plug on the floor. Without giving it a second thought she reaches down to pick up the ear plug and put it back in its proper place: her ear.

In so doing she lets out a scream realizing that the earplug has legs and is very much alive inside her hand. I don't know about you, but I shuddered when I heard the story. It was too close to home for me after my recent experience with the roaches in bed the other night.

The mental picture of a cockroach in your ear really doesn't sit right. How absurd! Can you see someone walking around with roaches hanging out of their ears? Yuck! However, the more I've thought about it, the more I'm concerned that this is actually what many people do. Of course, I don't mean naturally. Rather, spiritually. When I think of the ear I think of hearing. Spiritually speaking we are responsible for maintaining a posture of "hearing."

We do this through prayer, worship, the Word, godly counsel, accountability, fasting, obedience to the Lord, walking in love towards our brothers, etc... When one or more of these elements begins to falter it is easy to loose spiritual equilibrium. Instead of following the voice of the Good Shepherd we reach for other sources of direction and inspiration- men's opinions, cultural values, our own thoughts and ideas, life's pressures, etc... None of which are necessarily evil, but when they become the things directing and filling our hearing then I would call them cockroaches. They become filters perverting true hearing.

Jesus says multiple times "let him who has ears hear". This is a call to develop the capacity He has given us to hear His voice. In this hour may we be those who hear, obey, and rest in His voice. Hoping you have cockroach free ears! SK

Madagascar's welcoming committee

Arriving at Ivato International Airport in Antanarivo, Madagascar I was welcomed by a growing throng of people. Numbering in the thousands they encircled the airport parking lot and lined the streets leading into town. Quite the welcoming party! As much as I would like to say that the masses were present because of their great love for missions and missionaries, this would be a lie. Rather, they came out in number to welcome the ex-president's wife scheduled to return to Madagascar from a forced exile in South Africa just half an hour after my arrival. At the last minute the government warned her not to come just as they did for her husband two weeks ago. So the crowds quietly dispersed.

Later that night I was officially welcomed to Madagascar by some of the largest cockroaches I've seen. One was so cordial that he decided to crawl into bed with me feeling that I needed extra hospitality. After pumping enough bug spray in the room to cause my head to spin, I settled back down in bed. Just a few minutes later and another welcoming party decided to make their visit. Mosquitos. Lots of them. For nearly an hour I was serenaded by their sweet songs in my ears. With such beautiful melodies reverberating in the still night air I found it difficult to sleep. Some 40 bites later I decided I had been over-welcomed and decided it was my turn to do some welcoming.

The next morning the results of my hospitality were seen clearly: dead cockroaches strewn across the wooden floor and bloody splotches on the sheets where the mosquito committee met their match. Yes, it was quite the grand welcoming: crowds, giant insects, and mosquitos. Thankfully, there were some positive aspects of the welcome. Friends at the airport, warm sunshine, and lush vegetation.

I preached this morning on abiding with Christ. I wonder if sometimes we welcome Christ into our lives only to ask Him to dwell with creepy motivations and ambitions in our hearts, false cries of affection and adoration, and the distractions caused by the buzzing of too many things permitted in our lives from this world.

Rather, may we create an atmosphere and environment where the King is most welcome to abide in our hearts and lives.

Yes, I'm learning all kinds of new methods for welcoming. Should any of you choose to come visit, you will be probably feel most welcomed.

(There are pics posted on FB).