Failure is an option

Just days to go before my three-month-long adventure in Uganda. Many there are awaiting my arrival. My equipment is checked and in good working order. My physical, emotional and spiritual states shout that I’m “good to go.”

However, failure is an option.

If this trip centers around me, I’m toast. It is no news to my friends and associates that I am clumsy, ham-handed, at times arrogant and awkward. If I exhibit those all-too-familiar traits, I won’t be successful.

Fortunately, I am determined to avoid those snares of self-centeredness.

Sunset in Akot, South Sudan...May 2012

Since my trip last summer to South Sudan, I have relied on the fellowship of the Holy Spirit as my companion and guide. I have been blessed daily with affirmations, or kisses, from God, as a friend calls them. My call to leave every secure comfort of home and travel alone to the heart of sub-Saharan Africa is a giant step in faith. The planning and arrangements have unfolded smoothly because of my steady focus on the mission and God’s faithfulness to me.

When the spirit of the Lord is present, it is an indescribably beautiful experience. It’s as if one’s reason for being has been defined. I find that life in the spirit is sometimes so intense that we choose to turn away and go back to our selfish lives. But when we lose the light, we are at loss and struggle once again to become holy, or wholly of God.

I feel God’s powerful presence at work in me at this time: encouraging, leading, correcting, directing. I hope and pray throughout each day that I can stay right where I am and complete the work he’s set before me.

This is God’s trip, after all, not mine.

In or Out?

Walking into Faith Church after my first international sojourn, the first person I saw in the sanctuary was Scott Kellermann. This unexpected meeting with the missionary doc and friend would begin conversations to open the door to the next chapter of my video ministry abroad.

A return to Africa has been on my mind ever since I left Nairobi, Kenya, for London last June. Since the July encounter, Scott and I met several times to discuss a trip to the Bwindi compound, with hospital and school, to live and learn about the lives of the Batwa pygmies in the African jungle. As Scott and I sat down to talk, he looked me in the eye and agreed that once you’ve been to Africa, it gets into your soul and you got to go back.

scott and pat

What is it about the place that tugs on you? As simply as I can put it, to survive is to succeed. Depending where you are in sub-Saharan Africa, everything is hard. Transportation and potable water are two things we take for granted at home. They are not easily accessible. In Africa, as a visitor, your focus is on making it through the day. Putting on airs, or building phony facades is not necessary, for where are you going, or who are you trying to impress? Parts of you begin to get stripped away leaving only the essential you in this environment. That is what I love about Africa. I begin to see what kind of man I really am.

Scott has been encouraging and challenging. The lives and history of the Batwa his foundation serves is compelling. The government of Uganda forced them out of their ancestral home in the Impenetrable Forest to make a refuge for the mountain gorillas. The pygmies are now a nomadic tribe with no land of their own, no modern skills. There’s a need, he says, to get their story recorded before the elders leave us.

How exciting to capture scenes and accounts of an ancient life on video. Every day I think and dream of stories, anticipate production challenges. But I also wonder whether I’m good enough or serious enough to see this through.

It would be easy and stress-free to stay put. It’s a long and expensive trip. I’ll leave home for three months which burdens my family. But what can I gain from agonizing about these issues or emotions? I’d lose focus on the things I need to do before I leave. The thrill, adventure and communion with the Holy Spirit far outweigh my worldly worries.

Through prayer, I’ve given God all my concerns for this upcoming trip. His peace and direction have come quickly, soothing my spirit. What a feeling. What a God. What an opportunity he’s presented me.

I’m all in.

I can’t wait to tell my new friends in Uganda my story of God’s faithfulness.

Thrilling Adventure

Ditched my companions in Firenze today and got on a train back to Northern Italy to see the birthplace of my bike. Yes, going to see the Wilier factory in Rossano Veneto, which will be a thrill. Exchanged emails with a contact there who said he’d show me around the factory for 30 minutes or so. I brought some riding gear (shoes, jersey, shorts, pedals) in backpack in hopes I can ride one of their top-of-the-line bikes. Meanwhile, the others are off to Serena, in the heart of Tuscany…so everyone’s happy!

I’ve been gone for more than a month and have enjoyed being away from the US. Life is certainly simpler over here. Cars are smaller, toilets more efficient: two buttons, for no. 1 (less water) and no. 2 (hearty flow). We’ve used the trains to perfection, without missing a start or connection, including today. Men and women dress well when they’re out and about and, other than the French youth, are typically quiet.

As I’m writing this, a two-year-old is screaming nonstop with her parents powerless to stop her. I remind myself that my kid would never show me up like that. Leaving Sacramento for Atlanta I was seated a row behind TWO screeching kids and their oblivious parents. Guess my run of good travel luck was about to run out.

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Looking at the train’s marketing magazine beside me with Matt Damon on the cover. It’s in Italian so I can’t comprehend everything that’s discussed, but I do imagine I’m Jason Bourne on the streets of South Sudan, Paris, London and Firenze. Throughout our European jaunt, I’ve frequently found myself, or made myself, separated from the others. I prefer to walk and tour at my own pace. As I wander alone at Versailles or on the streets, I pretend that I’m Bourne or Leon Panetta, tasked with finding an individual in a city, teeming with smoking teens.

I prefer not to be a tourist. It’s too hard. I’d rather not compete with the crowds and be herded through museums and other exhibits. I would prefer to reside in a place or community with a job to do, ilike we did in South Sudan. Not that there’s much to see there.

I’ve been blessed throughout this trip, with safe travels, remarkable experiences and happenings. God has been very faithful to me, answering every prayer, and being present at all times. I could not have asked for anything more.

Finding My Space

I truly feel myself
When I’m by myself
My trip to Rossano
From Firenze
Tested me in every way…
Trust my instincts, decisions

Of course I thank the Lord
For preparing my way
For bringing people
Into my path

My language and
Communication skills
Were on notice
And served me well

I never felt threatened
Or even lonely
Though I travelled alone
God’s presence was
My constant shadow

I really like this lifestyle
I don’t miss the USA
And all its trappings
I like freedom of movement
Without cars and Big Oil

Planes and trains
And dreaming of bikes
Brought me to these far off
Continents

I’m not a tourist
That is too hard
I am a world citizen
Who enjoys a variety
Of experiences

I’ve had great moments
And a few I regret
The person within
Relates well to all
Black, white, yellow and other
Whether we speak the same
Language or not

Our relationship is defined
By the eyes and what’s
In the heart
It’s been all good for me

Been away a long while
Next week I head for home
Weeks of wonderment
Will be boiled down to days,
Hours, minutes

I give thanks again
And again
I’ve turned many pages in my life
These past five weeks
Quickly, with anticipation
To see what God
Will write next

19 June 2012

Scoring in Stresa

One of the highlights of our Eurotour was a weekend in Stresa, on the shores of Lago Maggiore, in Northern Italy.

My first order of business when I got off train was, “where’s the bike store?” Second cousin, Graziella, picked us up and I made my intentions known.

Checked into hotel and asked about bike shops. I recalled sending an email in early May to a store in the region asking about rentals, and got an affirmative response, but could remember nothing more from that exchange.

The front desk clerk suggested a store, but Graziella rejected that and said that she knew someone in town. Since she brought a pickup truck to gather us, this looked promising. We’d  go to this store, get me a bike, and I could ride for the first time in >4 weeks. Dinner would have to wait.

stresa bike

Her English is pretty good, despite her complaints, so we could communicate well. We drove to a neighboring town of Omegna and to her friend’s store. It was a small store, with nice road and mountain bikes. As I walked in, he rolled out a DeRosa aluminum frame bike, with Campy shifters like I have.

While in Paris, we walked by a number of Tour de France vendors with black and yellow jerseys and stuff. I had one in my hand before we hit the Louvre but put it down. I decided to wait until I reached Italy and get a jersey there.

As Massimo fixed the bike, I asked to see jerseys. He showed me a Scott jersey, from the bike company. I told him I wanted one from a local club. Actually, I don’t know how we got this far since he spoke no English and I know even less Italian. He nodded his understanding took me behind the register to show me a picture of his club, wearing their blue kits.

“Yes,” I told him. “That’s what I want!” So he sized he up, gave me the gear, and pointed to a changing room.

While I fumbled with the clothing, Massimo told Graziella about an email he got back in May from an American who was coming to the area to ride. He asked her my name, then found my email from May 1.

I came out of the room with the kit clinging to me and they both said, “molto bene!” and shared the story–I had contacted Massimo and he was fulfilling my cycling destiny in Italy. I was so thrilled I could hardly stand still. I bought the kit, then showed him my YouTube page with all the cycling and South Sudan videos. We took a picture together outside underneath his sign.

On the drive back to Stresa, Graziella and I excitedly recounted this event. I gave thanks to God for blessing me yet again on this trip and she shared this news with her friends on the phone.

After the bike pick up, we went to a restaurant where Graziella knew the chef. Had a wonderful meal, starting with the antipasti, fish, salad, great Bacan red wine, dessert.
Nice fueling for the next day’s ride.

Nearing the End

June 22

Today we leave Bologna, Italy, and board a train and head to Innsbruck where we’ll have six minutes to catch another train to our final destination near Garmish, Germany. It will be in Edelweiss country, in the Alps. Everyone who knows it says it will be spectacular.

It’s our last stop before we head back to US on Tuesday. We’ve been many places and seen spectacular things. South Sudan was wonderful and is at the top.

What I’ve enjoyed most, what I’ll remember and what my heart will deeply long for is the incredible presence of God throughout this journey.

I couldn’t have done very much on my own without him. My ham-handed, stubborn approach would have been a recipe for failure. But not to worry.

I’ve never felt alone, even when I was alone. God prepared people along the way–every day–for me. Maybe he knew I’d need him with his “A” game to get me through all of this.

My faith has grown these five weeks: so rich and deep and constant. I felt God’s call to see and document the world I’ve never seen before I left. It has been affirmed again and again and my faith has grown from there.

When I return home, I’ll have memories, photos and videos to enjoy and share with others.

But the greatest treasure is one I’ll work hard, and pray hard, to keep: my relationship with the father, son and Holy Spirit.

No matter where I walk, he will be with me always. Through faith, I will drop what I must and join him.

Countdown to Fulfillment

Faith has been described as belief in the things not seen. After years of anticipation, I leave for my video ministry trip to South Sudan in a matter of hours.

The excitement is constant. I whittle my checklist several times a day. It’s a far cry from how I’ve typically conducted my business–at the last minute. For this trip, I’ve been doing a little bit each day for weeks, getting shots, organizing travel docs, packing my luggage…so I won’t have a big panic attack as the airport shuttle arrives.

Earlier this week a friend asked me about this upcoming adventure, which will have me out of the country for six weeks. “Do you consider this trip as a signal of big change in your life,” I was asked.

No, I responded. This opportunity fulfills my destiny in life.

Years ago, I took a swing at sportscasting, my original love. Then it was more than two decades in a state cubicle farm, moving paper from here to there, creating talking points and reassuring taxpayers that all was well.

I enjoyed those work experiences at times, made great friends along the way. Inside me, though, there was a constant sense of greater work ahead.

Forty years ago, my father, brother and I spent a month in a church rectory on the island of Antigua, in the Caribbean Sea. We had a beautiful, secure home, with plumbing, and electricity. In the community around us, residents had corrugated tin roofs over their heads, carried buckets to a common well to get their water. The youth played soccer on a rock-strewn pitch. As a young teenager, it was my first exposure to a different way of life from what I enjoyed in the opulent US. It was also a foreshadowing of what awaits me next week.

My TV career fueled an interest in writing and video production. Over the years, as Apple improved its product line and made desktop publishing and non-linear video production accessible and easy, I polished skills and awaited the call.

A first opportunity came as newsletter editor for my local bishop. I produced a monthly newsletter for nearly ten years, while juggling a full-time job with my role as a new father, husband, Little League coach, and executor. More skills and contacts were developed, then placed on hold in anticipation.

Years of service with my local church put me in relationship with wonderful, selfless individuals, who served others as missionaries, instructors, pastors and cheap labor. I watched the mission trips affect lives. I participated for the first time and felt a renewed sense of purpose. I worshipped with a couple who sought missionary work in retirement. Their prayers were answered as God led them to South Sudan and elsewhere.

Their experience and my interest made for an easy match. An introduction was made to the organization that founded and operates a secondary school in South Sudan. They could use what I possess. In December 2011, my call was confirmed.

It’s hard to be in the moment on the journey. We just want to see where we’re going and not get tripped. Looking back, I can see many instances where a still, quiet voice inside me, or a friend beside me, nudged me in a direction that set me on this path. I say daily prayers for quiet confidence.

My journey has been long, with distractions and failures along the way. My compass has been influenced by prayer and loyal friends. They’ve encouraged me to regain my footing and find my voice. I am being fulfilled.