Angi Francesco - Pro Deo et Genere Humano
For God and Humankind

A Day In The Life...

Sat, 8 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

This last month of the race, Banah and Clay are on Ometepe Island on the western side of Lake Nicaragua in the country of the same name. We are living and working at an orphanage here. This is a day in the life of a World Racer...

It is just past 6:30am, and I am awake. Not a typical day on the World Race, until we reached Nicaragua. By 6:45, I will be in the kitchen, following mimed directions from a woman whose language I don't speak. This morning, I am deep frying plantains. I run the bananaesque fruits over a wooden block with a razor sharp blade across the center, leaving the plantains in slices the perfect thickness for kettle cooked chips, which is what these bits of goodness taste like once they are cooked. I toss the shaved plant matter into the oil and the still surface comes to life with a rolling boil. Once the oil has calmed down, I use the aluminum slotted spoon (more like an ice skimmer to me) to retrieve the chips from the cast iron pot and deposit them in a waiting bowl.

A glance at my wrist shows me it is 7:10; time to meet with the rest of Banah for morning prayers. After prayers, all of us return to the kitchen for breakfast, beans, tempura battered feta cheese, and the freshly fried plantain chips. After breakfast, I come back to the room I share with Laura and Vicki, my amazing sisters in this crazy journey. I spend an hour and a half working at my computer before returning to the kitchen.

Today, Sarah is my culinary partner, which is great since she is a wiz in the kitchen! But we are not in charge of the cooking... we just follow our orders. We are handed four neon pink fruits with little green tips sticking out all over them. Sarah cuts and peels them; her hands now stained bright pink, while I ready the blender. A few chunks of the vibrant fruit get pureed in two cups of water. Blend, empty into a five-gallon pot, repeat. Once that is done, we are called outside to the lemon tree that is visible from the kitchen window. ElsaMarie (one of the girls here) has a hook in her hand to shake over a dozen of the tiny lemons down from the tree; we pick them up and bring them into the kitchen. We squeeze every drop of juice from them, and add it to our neon blend. More water goes in until the pot is nearly full, then a half a kilo of sugar, and we have a delicious drink that is better than Koolaid, and definitely not something that came from a package!

Now we are moving onto lunch preparations. I'm slicing onions and garlic and adding them to the black pinto beans on the stove. Sarah is shredding cabbage on the same slicer that shaved the plantains earlier. Spanish worship music is blaring from a battle weary, smoke darkened, boom-box on a kitchen shelf, as Sarah and I spend the morning chatting away, discussing plans for home, that elusive place we've all talked about for nearly a year.

Around 11:30, we are released from our work to go shower and change for lunch at 1pm, which is followed by our 2pm to 3pm siesta. From 3pm to 5pm, Banah gets together to talk about our plans for re-entry into American culture. At 5:45, we head back to the kitchen for dinner, this time surrounded by many of the kids from the orphanage, who are all back from school and done with their chores for the day. After dinner, I find myself unwinding in a hammock at the rancho (gazebo) by the shore, lulled into a relaxing daydream by the cool breeze and dark waves crashing on the rocks below. By 8pm, I am in bed, with the lights out by 9pm. I am really living up the last days of my twenties!

Sunsets

Sun, 26 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

As I stare into the sunset of my World Race journey, I have been spending some time flipping through the myriad pictures I have taken these last ten months. I glance at an image, and I remember that day... I remember so much of what I was thinking or how I was feeling. And I feel blessed.

In nearly every country in which I have lived this year, I have captured an image of the setting sun. In some places, it is over buildings and shrouded in smog, but most of the time, I have found the sun slipping behind a hill or a mountain, sliding down behind great boulders, sinking into a lake or an ocean, or even escaping beyond a cloud filled horizon from an airplane window. No matter where I have been this year, the sun has still risen in the east and set in the west. And unless you are living in Alaska, you have experienced the same number of sunrises and sunsets that I have.

Check out these pictures and think about this: How many days do you remember in the last year? How many sunsets do you remember?

Philippines

China

Kenya

Uganda

Tanzania

Somewhere over the Indian Ocean

Moldova

Romania

Mexico

Full Immersion

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Support Update: I AM ALMOST THERE!! Friends, I need only

$345.24 to be fully supported! Please help me in whatever

capactity you can, even if it is only $5.24!

While the rest of my Squad is in Guatemala, My team and Team Clay are currently living in a small city called Palenque in Chaipas, Mexico. We are staying with Eleazar, the director of Shekinah Bible Institute. School doesn't reconvene until August 1st, so we are staying in the dorms!

For the last few days though, six of us traveled to a village about an hour away to help with a children's program, and to do some home visits and help attract people to the new church in the village. It was amazing! My teammate Vicki is a French teacher in real life, and she has picked up some Spanish along the way... so, she became our defacto translator.

The problem with only one translator though is that they need a break now and then, or they are involved in another conversation when you need them. But something else happened... something strange. I started to comprehend more of what was being said than not. Pastor Elias would say something to Vicki, and I would understand it. This would be easy to explain if I had ever taken a Spanish class; I haven't. We've been in so many countries at this point, surrounded by so many different languages that I have become accustomed to two things. The first is not having a clue what is being said around me and the second is that knowing that after learning the polite formalities of Hello, Thank You and Goodbye, there was no hope for me learning anything beyond that.

This was new and different. This was full and complete immersion into a new culture and a new language, and understanding even a part of what was going on was incredible!

Here are some pictures from our time in the village. We spent a lot of time outside the Pastor's home, playing with some local kids...

Sam Waddell and Terance Aloisious Horace Debussey Jones Ignatious Bodkins Williams

Thu, 2 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I spent the month of June in Budapest, Hungary, a fact most of you blog readers did not know because I was a terrible blogger last month. There was something about being in Europe, being back in the first world, having internet all the time, that made it so easy NOT to blog, even though I wrote something nearly every day. Today, I am writing from Antigua, Guatemala, and already there is a difference in blogging. We are limited again. Limited electricity, limited internet. Limited. And so far, I think that is a good thing.

So, here is a brief glimpse of two people with whom I spent countless hours on the streets of Budapest doing Evangelism. Street Evangelism in Hungary is pretty much setting up a mini sound system, and Sam and Terry playing their guitar and banjo respectively, singing Christian songs, and then preaching a short message. These two men are so incredible.

Terry is a 68 year old crazy old coot from England. He was a boxer in England for 20 years or so, after a stint in prison for stabbing a man, at the age of 44, he found Jesus. He's been in Budapest for a few years now, and he heads up the street evangelism ministry with YWAM. He is an odd duck in many ways; he loves American Country Music, especially some of the older stuff, and he has an incredibly thick accent that is reminiscent of Eliza Dolittle's, only harder to understand. I loved him from the moment I met him. Our first day out at street evangelism, (and every day thereafter), he pulls out his banjo and goes to town. It is incredible.

Then there is Sam. Sam is in his early 50's, and is from Alabama, a fact abundandtly obvious as soon as he speaks, because his accent is just as thick as Terry's, only slightly easier to understand. Sam found Jesus when he was in his early 20's and he and his friends spent all their time drinking and racing cars. One night, one of his friends had too much to drink, and drove his car too fast. He died in Sam's arms, and Sam came to the conclusion that there had to be more to life than drinking and racing. Sam has been with YWAM since the early 90's, when he spent a few years on a Mercy Ship off the coast of Africa. He was in a worship band there, and he said he played guitar. He does more than just 'play guitar'. He makes his electric guitar sing like nothing I have ever heard before.

These guys are amazing, and I loved every Monday and Thursday afternoon I got to spend with them. They are two people who really are larger than life. Hopefully, I will be able to post some pictures of them soon!! And maybe, if we are very lucky, a sound clip too!!

The Home Stretch

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

This is it. The Home Stretch. On Tuesday, I will be leaving Europe and heading to Central America to finish up my last two months on the World Race in Guatemala and Nicaragua.

Nine months on the field so far, and all so amazing. These blogs don't even begin to tell half it. But I still have two more months to go. Two more months of growing and changing. Two more months of watching and waiting expectantly for God to move in miraculous and incredible ways. Two more months to see lives changed. Two more months to encounter the hearts of people in places I've only ever dreamed of seeing.

And without your help, they will remain only dreams. Because I still need $1160 to finish the World Race. And I need it by July 1st.

It is the Home Stretch of my support raising too, and I need one last push. One last burst of speed to put me over the line so I can finish this Race with as much strength as I started it.

$1160 in 5 days. $232 a day. About $10 an hour. At this point, every little bit helps. Thank you for your support, and your prayers.

Second Opinion (Pavel Post #3)

Mon, 8 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Some people say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Most days, I agree with this. Pavel spent three days in a hospital in Bucharest getting test after test and scan after scan, all with the same results: the cancer is back, the leg needs to go, and possibly more chemo. But apparently there is a special cancer hospital in the city. We heard about it, and everyone advocated for a second opinion for Pavel. If there was a way to save his leg, we wanted it. When Pavel returned to Casa Shalom, his father also joined us. He spent another day with us, and we spent another night praying for him. We are not insane. We did the same thing over and over, and we expected different results.

The doctors still said he needed to have his leg amputated. But Pavel is a determined young man, and he wanted a second opinion. So, he and his mother came back to Casa Shalom for a few days before heading off to another hospital.

Pavel and his family went off to the hospital to get more tests, still in hopes that there would be some way to save his leg. The next day, when Becky told us the results, there were both laughter and tears. Because Pavel was cancer-free! The people who specialize in cancer didn't find any in his system. Pavel's source of pain was the bone graft. His body was rejecting it, so the new piece of bone was removed, and he was told after the infection subsided they could try again. But Pavel no longer has cancer, and he gets to keep his leg!!

Three Days (Pavel Post #2)

Sat, 6 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Three days of passionate prayer for Pavel. Three days of pressing in. Three days of standing in the gap. Three nights of fervent corporate prayer. I have never before experienced anything that felt so powerful. I could feel God moving around us. Pavel believed with all his heart and all his soul that God would heal him, and by the third night, he said that his leg was feeling less pain, and the swelling had gone down a bit. Our prayers were working!

And then came the day we were sure God was going to use to prove how mighty He is. The day we dropped Pavel and his mother off at the hospital. We were off working on another project (Extreme Home Make-over, Romania Style), and waiting expectantly for news on Pavel. When Becky got the call, it was not the one we were expecting, not the call we had been praying to get for three days. It was not the call telling us that the doctors were confused and that the cancer was gone, that Pavel was healed and ready to go home and shout from the rooftop of every house in his village that God had healed him. That isn't the phone call we got. The doctors said that the cancer had returned. That Pavel's leg would have to be amputated just above the knee, but they couldn't say for certain that the cancer hadn't already spread to the rest of his body. If that was the case, he would need to go through chemotherapy (again), and that even then, his chances of surviving long enough to see his eighteenth birthday were nearly nonexistent.

Dejected and a little angry, a few of us slumped down on a couch and started to fuss like cranky 4 years olds. We wanted to know... if God isn't going to heal Pavel (Paul in English), a young man whose cup of faith runneth over, then who will He heal? There was some frustration at God. We didn't just lay hands on Pavel for a few minutes one evening, we prayed hard for three days. And just before we took him to the hospital, we were at a Pentecostal church where a congregation of several hundred people prayed for him for a long time.

But it wasn't enough. Three days of intense prayer wasn't enough for Pavel. This fifteen year old boy has to have his leg amputated to try to save his life.

I Finally Feel Like A Warrior (Pavel Post #1)

Tue, 2 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Support Update: I still need support. I am still in need of $1410 to finish the race, and I need $400 of that immediately. Sorry I haven't written much lately... seems to be the month eight writer's block that is going around... I'll be posting a couple of blogs a week this month, the first week or so which will be playing 'catch up' from Romania.

Pavel sat in a chair in the center of the room, surrounded by his mother (Mihaela), Becky, half a dozen tweens and teens and two World Race teams (Lunchbox and Banah).

He prayed passionately: Jesus, you can heal me. I am asking you to heal me. Take my pain away. Your blood was shed for me. Your blood was shed at Calvary for me. I trust in you, Jesus, to heal me. But not just so I will live. I trust you to heal me so I can go back to my village and be a witness. I will go back to them and tell them that Jesus took my cancer away. That is why I know you will heal me.

Pavel is a fifteen year old gypsy boy, and he has faith like none I have ever seen before. His faith isn't in his head; it is in his heart. He doesn't sit and recite bible verses all day long, or talk about why would God do this, or why would God allow that. He just believes, and he does so with incredible trust in God and passion.

He has bone cancer in his right leg, and a few months ago, he had surgery to remove it. The doctors took out a chunk of bone by his knee and replaced it with a piece from his hip. But something went wrong. His knee was swollen, and he was in a tremendous amount of pain. So he was staying at Casa Shalom for a few nights before going back to the hospital for more tests. More tests to see if the cancer had returned.

Becky asked us if we minded spending a little bit of time praying for Pavel (heck, one more opportunity to bring Kingdom and witness a miracle... we are World Racers, of course we don't mind!). Which brings us to the scene I mentioned above. This fifteen year old boy crying out to the Lord for healing, surrounded by two dozen people praying on his behalf. I don't know what it was, but whatever I've been holding on to that has been holding me back... well... I guess I just let go, and let God throw a switch in me. I began to understand what Standing in the gap' really means, and in this moment, I finally felt like a warrior.

Heartbroken

Fri, 8 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I never thought it would be possible to fall in love in less than two weeks. But it happened. I can't say that it was love at first sight, but to use an unoriginal term (especially in Romania, birthplace of the Vampire myth) it was love at first bite. I don't know what I love most about Marius because there is just so much to love! He has an incredible servant's heart; a brilliant smile, a passion for the Lord and a heart for worship. He sings like an angel and his cooking... yumm, yummm, yummmmm! He would spend all day in the kitchen if he was allowed (you should have seen him teaching Mark how to make omlets). But because he is 11, he does have to go to school for at least part of the day.

Marius is an incredible young man, for the aforementioned reasons. His background and how he came to be at Case Shalom makes his story more incredible. When he was two an a half years old, he was living in an infant/toddler orphanage. There were 50 children living in one small room. An Orthodox priest, in an uncharacteristic move, contacted Becky at Casa Shalom, and asked her to take some of the children, because he knew that Casa Shalom was a better environment for children. Marius was one of the 5 children who were chosen that day.

For many years, Marius knew nothing about his family. He knew only that Becky had brought him from a state-run orphanage into to a loving home. He learned about Jesus, and he has incredible faith. But he still wanted to know how he made it to that orphanage in the first place. For years, he prayed that he would find his real parents. About two years ago, God answered his prayer, and he was introduced to his biological father. Marius learned that his mother had passed away two years before that, and that around the same time, he was singing in the same church his father and sisters were attending. Unfortunately, not every child who meets his parents encounters happy results, and Marius was one of those unlucky ones. After learning about him, and having him visit a few times, Marius' father told him that he never wanted to see him again. At age nine, this young, vibrant, child of God was told yet again that he was unloved and unwanted.

Now, two years later, Marius is switching homes again. Romania recently became part of the European Union, and they have different regulations for orphanages and children's homes. The cost of conforming to those regulations was too much for the supporters of Casa Shalom to bear and Becky has had to find new homes for all of the children who were here only a year ago. Marius and one other boy, Catalin, are the only two who remain. And after today, it will be only Catalin. Because Marius is leaving.

He is going to a different Christian-run home. Last night we had a goodbye party, though I am not sure the title party is deserved; every person in the room had tears streaming down their face. I have to trust God that it will be fine. That He will keep Marius safe, and that He has a plan. But right now, I don't get it. I don't understand why such an amazing young man can't have a place to call Home. I don't think there was a single World Racer in the room who didn't consider adopting Marius (me included) and giving him that place. One of the girls said she could call her parents and they would take him in a heartbeat. One of our men said, "I kept thinking, so what if I am 23 with an 11 year old?" We all desperately wanted to show him how loved his is. Sadly, Romanian laws have tightened in recent years, and Marius can't be adopted outside Romania. So Marius sang for us, and told us how much Casa Shalom means to him, and then we spent a long time praying over him.

Last night was hard. But tonight will be harder. Because this evening we will all pile into the vans and drive across town to a Christian Children's home that isn't Casa Shalom. We will look around the place, and know that it is where God wants Marius right now. But it won't make it any easier when we come home with one less shining light in the car. And my heart will go from slightly broken to shattered.

Marius and Dan

So What?

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I like plans. I like details. I like to know who, what, where, when, why and how. What it all really comes down to is that I like to have things scheduled, and guaranteed. Mostly because I like to be prepared. When traveling, I don't like taking chances. If I need a train ticket, I will pay a little extra money to get a guaranteed seat vs. a maybe you'll make it.' I don't like hours or days or weeks of empty space. Even on a day off, I prefer to at least have a mental checklist of things I am going to do.

    That all being said, when plans or schedules change, I can handle it... if I have enough notice. Ie: time to research and schedule the new plan. If things change last minute, and I have no idea what is going on... I get agitated. I get especially irritated when other people are in charge of finding out the details, and making the plan, and they don't. I am better now at not having to know the plan, I just want to know that someone has one!
   But last week, we had a travel day that was unplanned... unscheduled... with no guarantees. We needed to buy train tickets to go from Chisnou (Keeshnow), Moldova to Bucharest, Romania. What we didn't find out (because the internet isn't as comprehensive in other countries as we Americans would like, and because our contact in the city didn't know for sure) was that in order to purchase those tickets, we needed to show our passports. Suddenly, Olga, couldn't buy our tickets for us. And in the same breath, she told us that train only left every other day. We wanted to be on a train on Thursday night. But if it didn't leave until Friday... Eeek! Because of Easter, we got all of this information two days before we were supposed to leave Moldova. We quickly made plans and sent Cara and Laura to the Chisnou a day early with our passports to buy our tickets. And we prayed. God heard us, because somehow, even though it was the day before, we got seven beds on the train, all in the same car, and we were in two cabins close to each other. Whew! That part was a huge relief.
   Then came the tough part. The other five of us were still in Soldernesti, and we needed to get to Chisnou via marshutka (big van) or bus, and then to the train station to catch our 5pm train. The biggest issue was that the only posted schedule indicated only two marshutkas, the last leaving at 12:30pm. Our translator in Soldernesti, Sergio, swore that there was a 9:20 coach bus that came through town and would take us the 3 hours to Chisnou. We could find NO evidence or information of said bus anywhere. As far as I was concerned, that bus was fictitious. What it came down to was that if the 12:30 marshutka couldn't fit all of us, some of us were missing the train to Bucharesti. It was the Perfect Storm for me to be stressed and freaking out... not only did we not yet have our tickets, we didn't even know if there was going to be space for all of us and our bags anywhere... if any of these forms of transportation showed up! I should have been irritated and grouchy about the lack of plans and information. But I wasn't.
   My fantastic squadmate, Ian, taught me a new phrase. "So what? What is the worst than can happen?" In this case... I put it to the test. So what? What is the worst possible scenario if there are no buses or marshutkas out of Soldernesti? If we miss the (fictitious) bus, and the marshutka is full, we take a taxi. But what if we still miss the train? The next one doesn't leave for two days. So what? Really. So what? So I don't get to go to Brasov and wander around in the Carpathian mountains this weekend. So what? So I have to spend two nights in Chisnou before heading straight to ministry in Romania. So what? So I don't get the couple of days off' in the way I had planned.   That is the worst that can happen? That I don't get to spend my time the way I had wanted, and I have to spend a few extra dollars. Hmm. First, there are an awful lot of I's in there. And second of all... nothing in that scenario is really all that terrible.?

Moldova and Writers Block

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Quick Support Update: With all of your help, we made it to the goal to keep me here another month. I do still need $2175 to finish the World Race!

I am sorry that this isn't a well refined bit of expository writing. Something about this place is sucking the creativity out of me, and I am sorry that you get the result. I have lots of great thoughts and images I want to convey... but it just isn't happening at the moment (and I don't know why). For some reason I can't get the words from my brain to the keyboard. I can give you a few little bits though. We are in Moldova, and last week we were in a little village called Cornesti (pronounced Cornesh). We worked with an amazing pastor named Vitalii who runs a transition home for young men and women who are past orphanage age, but not ready for the real world yet. Lots of incredible things went on there, but we were only there for a week.

This week, we are in Soldernesti (pronounced like Holderness, only 'sh' at the beginning, and 'esht' at the end), working with a pastor who is about to open a transition home for young women. The home isn't open yet, so we are staying there! The highlight of my week has been working in the vineyard. I have so much internal commentary about John 15 and how that all relates... and then there is the whole idea of continuity of kingdom and we are working with the vines that will produce the juice for people we will never meet to take communion... yeah... that sort of stuff is all in my head. Sorry you can't all experience that right now... or maybe you are actually lucky...

Sometime next week we are headed to Romania to Bucharest where Team Banah will be joined by Team Lunchbox working with a ministry called Casa Shalom, which you can look at here: http://misslink.org/casa/

At the moment, I'm in a little internet cafe in Soldernesti, and I am surround by pre-pubescent boys all playing 007 or Doom or some other online game. Pictures from here will have to wait a bit; jump drives are not allowed in here.

Squad Picture in Ukraine!!

Sun, 5 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

End of India (PICS)

Sat, 4 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A few last pictures of India... so sorry I haven't posted recently. The end result in India for me was that I love the country. Specifically, Bangalore and the people who reside there. For the first time on this trek, God brought me to a place, and made it clear that not only could I go back, but I would go back. So, when leaving India, I didn't say goodbye so much as 'See you later'. Here are some pictures from our a day off, including our excursion to the Taj Mahal! And since I've had more than one request to include some pictures of me... here are a bunch!

Київ, Україна

Sat, 4 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

This blog was written by my team mate Vicki...

We arrived in Kiev, Ukraine last week, and my team Banah will actually only be here for a couple more days ... because we're headed to the neighboring country of Moldova!

For the next three months, our squad will be based in Eastern Europe. I have already figured out how to read Cyrillic - it's actually a simple phonetic combination of Greek, Hebrew, and Latin letters. Now, I look forward to learning actual vocabulary! It's weird to be in a country that uses such little English, especially when the people look more like us than anywhere else we have been this year.

For April, most of the teams will stay in Ukraine, working with college ministries, much like we did in China - developing relationships with students and sharing the Gospel with them.

Our team, however, like I said, will be near the capital city of Moldova, partnering with New Hope International. Their vision is to build bridges to mobilize churches that win the next generation for Christ. They do this through Christian youth clubs, camps, and social projects. They also run a transitional home for young adult orphans who are particularly vulnerable to human trafficking.

Next month (May), all teams will be working in Romania. And during June, we will explicitly "ask the Lord" to guide us (instead of being assigned to a ministry location after the prayerful consideration of the leaders). Do you have any ministry contacts in Eastern Europe?!

To read more about Moldova and Eastern Europe, read Stephanie Fisk's recent blog posts. She is the squad leader for the July '08 World Race team, and she has been scouting out potential contacts for us.

As former members of the Soviet Union, many of the countries in this region suffer from a spirit of division, so we ask that you PRAY for UNITY.

***

Crunch Time, People!

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

This isn't fun to write about, but here goes, straight and simple.

If I don't get about $600 into my support account in the next 6 days, there's a good chance I won't continue into eastern Europe. My Race will end here. That's it. The deadline is coming. The rubber is meeting the road. There will be consequences for me.

For those that have followed along closely--I know you're tired of hearing about this, and I'm tired of writing about it. I thank you dearly for your loyalty and support, and I understand if you've already given all that you can.

For anyone else who might not be a "regular" on this blog, please give this some prayer and consideration for me. Please.

I believe that the Lord will provide for whatever is His will. But if it's His will that I finish the Race, His provision must come through you.

When you're ready, click here.

Thanks, and be blessed.

(Fellow racers, please repost this if you can)

Home Of Hope (VIDEO)

Sat, 21 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

If you want to know more about T. Raja and the rest of the story of Home Of Hope, you can visit this link: http://www.newarkmission.org/

My support update: We are getting there! Since my last post, another $270 has been credited to my support account. This means that I still need $680 by April 1st, and a total of only $3730 to finish the World Race.

Bits About Bangalore (PICS)

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Support Update: In recent days, I have received $250 in support (Thank You!). I still need $3950 to finish the Race, and I am in desperate need of $1250 by April 1st to continue on after that date. If you are choosing to mail a check, please just send me an e-mail via button to the left, letting me know. Thank you!

Our arrival into Bangalore, India was a little fuzzy for me. We arrived here at 3:30pm on Saturday. But I had been up since 6:45am on Friday. The route from Nairobi involved three planes and four airports (including a stop in the itty bitty nation of Qatar). It was a great adventure!

On the lovely airplane

In the van on the way to Grace Mansion! 29 hours of travel and we can still smile!

Team Banah is working with a well-established global missions group (read between the lines there), and we are staying at their Bangalore location. The building is barely a year old, so we have plenty of American comforts here. It is a very welcome respite from some rougher living conditions in Africa. Our home is called Grace Mansion, and it is amazing. Our favorite part of the building is the roof. We are up there every morning for prayer, and it is our very frequent hangout spot.

Ian, one of the boys we are 'borrowing' from Team Fuse for the month

Our view of Bangalore!

Smog does fun things to the setting sun!

Our ministry this month is a little scattered, in part due to the fact that India is technically a closed country, but is far less strict than China. Our primary ministry is working with some university cell groups, which is going quite well.

I know I have mentioned some facts about India, but here are a few more:
*India is 85% Hindu
*The whole country is 5% Christian and Other'
*My team is in the state' of Karnataka, which is 1% Christian and Other'
*Bangalore is the Silicon Valley of India, with companies like Garmin, Google, and Dell
*Bangalore is also the Bible Belt of India, with Christians in the city making up 26% of the population here.
*Bangalore is a city of approximately 8,000,000 people.

*Bangalore is called the Garden City of India because of greenery that abounds. Sidenote: there is a lot of vegetation, for a city, but we just came from East Africa...

The Weight of Karma

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Not infrequently on this journey, I have marveled at just how privileged we Americans truly are. Forget the mere conveniences of running water, electricity and well-paved roads. Today's blog is in regard to socioeconomic mobility, which I, for one, tend to take for granted. If you work hard in school, or even at a menial job, you can climb ladders and make more money. We are taught that no matter what class' we are born into, we can be anything we want to be. While in Stone Village the other day, I had a conversation with our contact, John, about the Caste System in India and I learned that it is not the case here.

      The Caste System is one of those things that I have read about and studied in the past, but which I still struggle to fully comprehend. The shortest explanation is to say that India is divided into several different classes' or castes. Where you are born, there you shall stay. For the people living in Stone Village, and really, everyone born into the lowest caste in India, dreaming of bigger and better things is futile. Accepting that the current generation is stuck where they are, I quickly looked to the children of the village, desperately trying to hope better for them. The next generation can always do things differently; they can be the revolutionaries. Over the next few minutes, John quashed my hope with his description of just how deeply castes are ingrained in Indian society.
    The concept of the caste system is rooted in Hinduism. Because the Hindus believe in reincarnation, they believe that the life you are born into is indicative of how you lived your previous life. If you were a good person in your last life, you will be born to an upper caste family, and hence reap the rewards of that life in this one. If you were not a very good person, you would be born into a lower caste. And if you were something terrible in you last life, like a murderer, you would likely be afflicted with leprosy, making you an Untouchable (lower than the lowest caste), and according to society as a whole, getting what you deserve. This is why there is no mobility. You are getting what you deserve. It is also why most Indians won't have anything to do with the lepers here. To them, instead of a murderer being put in jail for the rest of their lives, they are imprisoned by disease for an entire lifetime. They believe the lepers deserve to be cast out of society.
      Now, in case you are thinking: Just move to a new area, where people don't know you, and don't know what caste you were born into, it isn't that easy. Your last name denotes your caste. So, immediately upon meeting someone, just by learning that single piece of information, you know a whole host of things about that person.
      In India, the government provides for education. In places like Stone Village though, the teachers rarely show up five days a week. Three or four seems to be the average. There is no emphasis on high achievement, no weight given to excelling in school to earn scholarships toward university. Even that is nearly pointless. Because the university system is still affected by the caste system, lower caste individuals go to lower caste universities. And when they graduate, they go out and get lower caste jobs.
      Think: working your whole life, struggling to pull yourself out of poverty and despair, graduating at the top of your class from university, and the best, the very best job you can get is working at McDonald's. Simply because of your last name. It doesn't matter if you are a veritable genius. If you go to apply for a job above your caste, the moment the HR director sees your last name, she tosses your resume in the trash.
      Standing in the middle of the street in Stone Village, listening to John describe these things to me, my eyes filled with tears. It just seems so incredibly hopeless, and my heart broke for the people here.

Finding hope in all of this is difficult. India is more than 85% Hindu and less than 5% Christian. The best scenario for eliminating the caste system is to eliminate the idea of past lives. Especially to eliminate the idea that those past lives influence your current life. As Christians, we know that accepting Christ wipes the slate clean for all we have done in our lifetime. Imagine how amazing and really fantastical that is to someone who believes they have been trying to reach nirvana for a millennium. Please be praying for the people of this country to turn away from their idols, find Christ, and abandon this notion of reincarnation, because that seems to be the only way things are going to change.

Landing On the Moon (PICS)

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Friends, I am in desperate need of financial support. I need $4200 total to finish the World Race, but more immediately, I need $1500 by April 1st. If this doesn't come in, my World Race journey will end after month six. From now on, each blog I post will include how much support I still need, and if anything has come in recently. If you are mailing a check, please click on the button to the right where it is says 'E-mail Me' and let me know. Thank you, and keep praying for me please.

Landing On The Moon

Even driving into Stone Village, we could see and feel a difference. This place is geographically a part of Bangalore, but at the same time, so far removed from society that it might as well be a remote village somewhere in the bush. We are traveling to a slum called Stone Village, aptly named for its proximity to a large granite quarry. The stone dust is everywhere, a coating of gray on every surface. It hangs pervasively over and on everything, lending an otherworldly feel to this place. The quarry and its surrounding villages appear to have been bled dry of all color by the dust. We might as well be on the moon. The only indications that we are not: the dump trucks that go rolling by, laden with the granite excavated to eke out an existence in extreme poverty.

We arrive in Stone Village, and suddenly, it is a world with some light. The people here are wearing brilliant splashes of color that even the omnipresent light-killing powder is unable to dull. Our roles today are to divide and conquer. Jeff and Sharon are going to work on Medical Ministry; Mark, Laura, and Vicki are going to work (play) with the local children; Jacob and I are slated to head off for home visits. We quickly learn that the person who usually guides the home visits is not there, so with two of our contacts, Jacob and I start prayer walking. The village is small, so it doesn't take long for us to cover it and walk around it, erecting spiritual walls to protect the people within.

After prayer walking for nearly an hour, we head back toward the van, and the location of the Medical Ministry. Jeff and Sharon were seeing patients, Jeff doing his Physical Therapist thing, and Sharon praying the whole time. Everyone, regardless of age, has lung and breathing problems, and that is where most symptoms begin. I am having a hard time grasping the whys here, so John (our contact), stands beside me for a while and educates me more clearly about the caste system here, and how it really works (blog coming soon). The short version is that the people living in this village are stuck. There is no way for them to work any harder and pull themselves out of the poverty here. The only thing that is going to change their lives is Jesus, and that is abundantly clear.

We then walk over to the church to see how the children's program is doing. Vicki is giving a lesson on David and Goliath. She is a wonderful teacher, and is, as usual, doing an excellent job. After the lesson, the kids head home, first receiving a large roll, for most, the best food they get all week. I watch as one little boy carefully tears his roll in half and tucks one half into his pocket to save for later. The children here are such brilliant beacons of light; I can't help but have hope for them, despite the pervading sense of despair in this place.

Crusade Pictures

Thu, 5 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Cara Preaching at a Crusade

Kids taking care of kids

Me with one of the children

Laura, Cara and Vicki with the children

One of our friends, Anne, leading worship

Tanzania - Some Pictures

Thu, 5 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Tanzania - A Few More Pictures

Thu, 5 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

The sun has set on our time in Africa, and I can say now that this place is one of the most beautiful and incredible pieces of God's creation that I have ever seen. The people here are so generous and sweet, and each time we have tried to leave a location, they have begged us to stay. I am leaving a larger piece of my heart in Africa than I ever could have imagined.

The sun may have set for us on this safari, but the wonderful

thing about the sun in Africa is that it always rises again.

The One About the Crusades

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Within days of arriving in Africa, I began hearing about a kind of church service called a Crusade. I had an immediately negative visceral reaction to the word. As many people who have studied early medieval history beyond a cursory glance would know, the Crusades were not a pretty time in church history. In fact, one of the definitions of a Crusade is A war instigated by the Church for alleged religious ends.' Not a shining moment in church history. So, it is understandable that for me, the word brought nothing but awful and violent images to mind. In those first few days, the appalled look on my face gave away my thoughts; squadmates who had been to Africa before assured me that Crusades were fun, and that no one flinched at the word. This did nothing to assuage my apprehension. I still thought it was like inviting people to a party and calling it a Holocaust. Just because the occasion is a celebration doesn't make the word any less painful. And to add insult to injury, in both Uganda and Tanzania, where we were going to be doing many of these Crusades, the prevailing religion in the area is Islam. In the 11^th, 12^th and 13^th Centuries, it was the Muslims who were the primary targets of the church, as the Crusaders massacred everyone who blocked their zealous quest to take back the Holy Land. My heart hurt for the people who I was sure we were gravely insulting over the use of such a hurtful word.

But, yet again on the World Race, my preconceived notions have been blown out of the water. A typical Crusade occurs in an open area, a field or a central part of town. Sound equipment is rented or borrowed. When the music starts, it is a signal for the townspeople to start the dance party! It is amazing, and actually quite beautiful (yes, I just used the word beautiful to describe a Crusade). Most Crusades have performance' segments, where local choirs come and perform a song and dance routine. We are usually on benches or have spread a kanga on the grass and we are seated on the ground. Children seem to flock to the mzungos; each one of us usually has anywhere from one to a dozen children sprawled on us. The last portion of the Crusade is one of us preaching a basic gospel/salvation message. There is no violence. There is no pressure. There is only love and a genuine desire to reach the people who have never heard of Jesus. The word Crusade has been redeemed for me.

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 1

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Blood

In the first five months on the World Race, I managed to avoid injury. In Kenya, a motorcycle barreling down the road had a large cargo on the back, and clipped me. The only thing resulting from that was a bruise on my arm. It didn't run me to the ground, and the blow didn't manage to break my skin. Tanzania on the other hand, has garnered more blood from me than any other country thus far. Our first morning of house to house, I sliced my big toe open on a rusty iron something sticking up from the ground (don't worry, had my tetanus shot in July). It was a fairly deep cut, and I was leaving drops of blood behind me as we walked to the next home. Since I'm not in the habit of carting my First Aid kit around, I had nothing with which to staunch the flow of blood. Laura came to my rescue, tearing her handkerchief and wrapping my toe up until we got home. That was the first incident.

The second happened on the way home from a crazy Crusade that Pastor Celsius took Sharon and I to. It was twilight, an important time because around here, the danger level, especially for mzungos, escalates after dusk. We were hurriedly climbing into the Dalah-dalah (like a Matatu... big van, lots of people), and as I stepped into the last row of seats, I scraped my leg on something (again, sharp metal). It hurt, but I didn't really think much of it, until I felt something warm and sticky running down my leg. I managed to forget about it until we reached Mama Joyce's house, and I glanced down at my leg and saw the blood. This cut was a little deeper and a lot longer, so this time, there was more of the burgundy liquid oozing from my paper white skin. The stark contrast gave me pause for just a moment as I grabbed my First Aid kit to clean myself up before Pastor Celsius noticed (which I accomplished). I do have pictures of said blood, but in an attempt to keep this blog PG, I'm not posting them.

This country is amazing, and as my blood is draining into the land here,

so this place is seeping into me.

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 2

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Sweat

I remember the day my friend Marcie got married (as any good friend should). It was a very hot day. It was in early June in Massachusetts, and it shouldn't have been as hot as it was. They couldn't turn the fans on because when they did, it kept blowing out the unity candle. I remember standing in the front of the church, as her Maid of Honor, and sweating. I remember sweating so much that for the first time in my life, I could feel the rivulets of liquid flowing down my legs.

Tanzania is like that nearly every day. The days here are warm. I don't know what the temperature is; I haven't known in any country really. The heat is exacerbated by the crazy humidity. I don't know the percentage of the humidity either. But I do know that during an hours-long church service, I again feel the sweat literally pouring off my body. I always wonder if the clothes I am wearing are getting as wet as I feel. When we walk places, it isn't so bad; we are in motion, and there is often a breeze. But sitting in the church or in our house in the afternoon, that is when it is the worst. One thing I can say for sure - I am leaving a lot of my sweat behind in Tanzania!!

So, again I can say that this country is amazing. As my sweat trickles in the land here,

so this place continues to seep into me.

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 3

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Tears

Tears. Before I was involved with all things World Race, I can't tell you the last time I cried that wasn't an Extreme Home Makeover induced tear-fest. But I can tell you that in the last year I have cried more than I can remember in the last ten years. Many of those tears have been shed in Tanzania, and many more will be shed for Tanzania. It began with the story of Pandora and Sarah, and it has continued with each new tale of faith and obedience.

One of the things I have loved so much about this ministry and this place, is the fact that we get to see the same people over and over. As I have mentioned before, the church with which we are working is an extremely active one. With services and events as frequent as they are, I would think that it would be an excuse to show up only once a week, and be done with the churchy obligation. But that is not the case. As frequently as we are at the church, so too are several of the dedicated members.

We see Rachel (whose story Vicki is going to tell in a blog) who works with the children all the time, teaching them songs and dances, and who has several children of her own.

We spend time with Anne, one of the worship leaders at the church. And Jackie, who is the daughter of Mama Joyce and is an incredibly intelligent young woman. I had a chance to look over her final thesis from university, and she is amazing.

Mama Joyce too is so incredible. Her husband is gone for long periods of time; she has two daughters away at boarding school; she runs a business in the city; she is a church elder. She takes the last of these things seriously. She is so generous. Giving us a room in her home, allowing us to take over her living room or dining room. She gives away much of what she gets to the church, including her time. Last week, the teenage daughter of a church member was hospitalized for mental illness. Mama Joyce found out about it, and also found out that the young girl was most lucid early in the morning. So, Mama was up and out of the house by 6am to sit with her and pray for healing. Mama also asks us about our lives. She cares for each one of us, wanting to know about our pasts and what led us on the World Race, and what we hope and dream to do after we return to the US.

Justin is another one of the church members who has bent over backwards for us. He is trying to start a preschool at the church during the mornings. He also is the Sunday School teacher (which meets both on Saturday and on Sunday). Because we've helped out a bunch, we've gotten to know him too. He is a newly-wed (October), but as soon as he and his wife were married, her job transferred her to a city several hours away, so they only get to see each other about once a month. Not an ideal way to spend your first years of marriage!

Pastor Celsius's wife Rachel is amazing too. She helps to translate for us when we are leading the women's bible study. She also accompanies us on our home visits in the morning, frequently going ahead of our little band to warn the church members that mzungos are approaching.

And then there is Pastor Celsius. He warrants of blog of his own, which I hope to get to, but in case I don't, here are the highlights. He is a protective Daddy to us, especially the girls since the boys left a week ago. He makes sure we know where we are going, and if he can't personally escort us, he sends us with a church member as a guide. When we are invited to people's homes, they have to talk to him first to get permission (so cute) and make sure we get home before dusk. But more than that, the man is hilarious. The joy of the Lord is in him in a big way. We have seen him laugh so hard at church that he has to wipe the tears from his eyes. When we are in homes, and someone makes a comment in Swahili about us, often his first response is to laugh... and when he can breathe again, he translates for us. The things he says are so funny that I have a whole list of Celcyisms.' Like Mama Joyce, he is interested in us as people. Not just as hands doing work in his community. When he found out that I had lived in my own home, alone, he was immediately concerned for my safety. No one in Tanzania lives alone; it is very dangerous. And of course, being 29 and still single, he was also very concerned for my future. He and I were talking one evening about living in community, and all the things that the World Race teaches, and he said to me, "I think that after this safari (journey) you will be well prepared for marriage." That one made me laugh pretty hard.

These are just a handful of the people I have come to know and love in these weeks here. I have already started shedding tears over our coming separation. But I have a feeling that God will bring me back to Tanzania, sooner rather than later. As I said, this place is incredible, and the Lord is doing some amazing things here.

As my tears flow into this land,

so too this place seeps into me.

Fried Chicken and Mashed Potatoes... in Africa? (PICS)

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

This is the first time since being on the World Race that I have had the opportunity to live in someone else's home. In the last several months I've lived on Missionary Bases, in hotels or hostels, or in a home rented for my team. But living IN the home allows us to get to know our hosts on a more personal level.

Living with Mama Joyce and her family is amazing. Her husband is elsewhere in Tanzania on business, and he is frequently gone for long periods of time. So, she is left here with her two teenage daughters, a friend of the family, and a house girl. Mama Joyce runs a clothing business in town, so she also goes on business trips every month or so. Because she travels, she is curious about other cultures and especially the food in other cultures!

Our first week here, we celebrated Laura's 23^rdbirthday. Knowing it was coming, I planned ahead and smuggled in Betty Crocker cake mix and icing, praying we would have access to an oven. Thankfully, there is an electric oven in the house! We threw her a surprise party, made brilliantly complete by sneaking Team Crux over to join us. I spent the morning working on the cake, and it turned out amazingly (I'm a halfway decent baker).

Mama Joyce was in Uganda on business and so she missed out on the birthday extravaganza. But she heard about it! And she asked us to make a cake one night. In fact, she asked us to teach her how to cook an American meal. We are somewhat limited by types of food available, but we realized we could do fried chicken and mashed potatoes (okay, being from New England, I am clueless about the fried chicken part, thankfully, Sharon knew what she was doing), and we found Pillsbury Cake mix at the NoNo Supermarket in town!

Mama Joyce wanted to learn how to make a cake... so I showed her how (really, she had never seen cake mix before). She was also quite fascinated by my measuring cup! I taught her how to make chocolate buttercream frosting too... everyone in the house liked that!

Of course, I also schooled her on the art of licking the bowl!!

We had a great afternoon of cooking, and serving our hosts, but the best part of the evening came at dinner time. Pastor Celsius and his wife, Rachel joined us. There were 15 of us all together, and it was a fantastic evening of fellowship and a true cultural exchange.

Side Note: One of the ways that our team leader, Laura, shows love is by slathering food products on people. She showed Mama Joyce and the other women of the house this brilliant move, and since there happened to be some extra chocolate frosting... it ended up on many people's cheeks, accompanied by the Tanzanians saying Share de love.' It was precious.

Jackie, Mama Joyce, and the amazing cake!

Mark, with chocolate frosting on his face...

Laura, witnessing her 'handiwork'

Tanzania... The First Week

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

As usual, with all things World Race, change is to be expected. The unexpected is to be anticipated. As I said when I released our list of projected' countries, things are subject to change. Here is the change: I'm in Tanzania!! (Tahn-zahn-ya, not Tan-za-nia) I am actually in the second largest city in the country, a place called Mwanza, on the shore of... Lake Victoria!! I know... me... by a lake... again... how cool!!

Team Banah is working with a local guy named Pastor Celsius. He is awesome. He arranged for us to stay in the homes of several members of his church. Three of us are staying with Mama Joyce, and her home has become our base.' We have all of our team meetings at her house, and all of our meals are served there as well. I live with Mama Joyce, and we have electricity (most of the time) and running water (most of the time). We still have the pleasure of taking bucket baths though! The boys live right next door in a brand new home (complete with a real shower), with a young man, and one of our guards. Sharon and Vicki live two houses away with another couple from church and their four-year old son. I am writing this from their house, which has an amazingly fast internet connection that the family is generously allowing us to use.

Our ministry this month is perhaps my favorite so far in Africa. Pastor Celsius has an incredibly active church, with services every day from 4-6pm, and then a longer service on Sundays. This past week was Youth Week' which meant that the youth ran the church all last week and this Sunday's service (youth in Africa means anyone under 40 who is unmarried and without children). It was amazing to see such an active group of people! They ran the whole show! There were preachers and teachers and skits and songs and dances... they were fantastic! Our role in all of this is really to just come alongside Pastor Celsius and help out wherever we can. Last week, we accompanied the youth in going to door to door in the community and really just getting to know some of the people in the area.

Because church happens every day of the week, we see the same people over and over again. Which is awesome. We are starting to build relationships with the church members, and next week, we are planning to visit some of them at home, in hopes that we can get to know them even better.

How Often Do You Go To Church?

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I am realizing more and more how little attention I pay to Church in America. Especially when compared to Africa. But even Kenya and Uganda and their three-hour Sunday services can't compare to the church we are connected to here in Tanzania. Every day from 4pm to 6pm, at least half of the members of Pastor Celsius's church gather for worship, prayer, a message from a preacher or three and fellowship. Every day! The people here in Tanzania are no less busy than Americans. The women are home all day cooking and looking after the children, and the men are often in the city, working. And still, they come together at the end of the day to go to church. I know that when I realized this, my first thought was I don't have time to do that every day!' But at the same time, I can't help but wonder about what life would look like if I did. If, in the US, I got filled up' every day, not just for an hour on Sunday? If you heard God's messages of love every day, wouldn't it be that much harder to forget? What would life look like if you heard a testimony of how God did something wonderful for one of your friends... every day? If you've had a rough day at work, for whatever reason, how amazing would it be to know that you have a great worship service to look forward to and lift you back up?

It is also another example of a way to live in community, where you are constantly connecting with your brothers and sisters. When someone is in need of help, they have only to mention it, and prayer happens right then. It is a pretty incredible way to live out the life God intends for us.

Pandora, Jonathan and Sarah

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

James 1:27 Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Our morning started out like any other, a group of World Racers and a translator approaching homes and begging entry. We were welcomed into one home by a woman named Pandora. We entered the home, and all sat down, and we quickly learned through our translator Solomon that Pandora was a believer, and she was happy and excited to welcome us into her home. We all chatted for a bit, and then an older man entered the room. Jonathan, Pandora's father, who was perhaps in his late sixties or early seventies, sat quietly for a bit, just listening. Pandora began to tell us a story, but was frustrated by the translation process. Jonathan began to speak in nearly flawless English. I think my jaw was dropped open in surprise for a few moments before I realized he was telling us a story.

"My daughter Pandora got sick two years ago. She went to a hospital nearby for abdominal surgery. They had to bring in a special doctor for the surgery, and it went well. After the surgery, my daughter met another woman in the hospital. This other woman had also had surgery, but hers had not gone well. She died. She had been married. But it was not a legal marriage. She was a concubine and she had a child. There was no one to care for the little girl, so when Pandora recovered, she took the girl home to live with her until they could find her father. But the man was hard to find. He went far away, to another district. We could not find him for many months. We finally found him, and he said he did not want his daughter. She was an orphan. Pandora met with a woman who runs an orphanage that had space for the little girl. But the woman told Pandora that since the girl had already been living with her for a year, the best thing for her would be for Pandora to adopt her. So she did."

Jonathan ended his monologue and the room was silent. We all started speaking at once. How old is the girl now? What is her name? Where is she now? It took a few moments, but we learned that her name is Sarah, and she was just outside playing. Pandora called for her, and she came shyly into the room. She is about six years old, and cute as cute can be. I was closest to the door, and she shook my hand politely. She moved on to Jeff, who immediately captured her, swinging her into his lap. I surreptitiously wiped the tears from my eyes as I wondered what kind of man could abandon his daughter right after her mother had died. I realized quickly that I was focusing on the wrong part of the story. Instead of feeling badly for the child who'd been abandoned by her father, I should be rejoicing and celebrating the new life she had been given. Sarah had been lost in her former family, and she had now been found by a new family and given a new life. Amazing grace had been shown, and my tears began anew, this time, not as veiled.

Pandora

Laura and Sarah

Angi Francesco - Pro Deo et Genere Humano For God and Humankind

A Day In The Life...

Sunsets

Full Immersion

Sam Waddell and Terance Aloisious Horace Debussey Jones Ignatious Bodkins Williams

The Home Stretch

Second Opinion (Pavel Post #3)

Three Days (Pavel Post #2)

I Finally Feel Like A Warrior (Pavel Post #1)

Heartbroken

So What?

Moldova and Writers Block

Squad Picture in Ukraine!!

End of India (PICS)

Київ, Україна

Crunch Time, People!

Home Of Hope (VIDEO)

Bits About Bangalore (PICS)

The Weight of Karma

Landing On the Moon (PICS)

Crusade Pictures

Tanzania - Some Pictures

Tanzania - A Few More Pictures

The One About the Crusades

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 1

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 2

Blood, Sweat and Tears - Part 3

Fried Chicken and Mashed Potatoes... in Africa? (PICS)

Tanzania... The First Week

How Often Do You Go To Church?

Pandora, Jonathan and Sarah

Angi Francesco - Pro Deo et Genere Humano
For God and Humankind