My Head is Spinning, Does That Mean I Am Living a Spiral?

When I look at this new picture my son Travis sent by email this week, my head spins. What happened to the quiet little curly headed boy who spent most of his time playing with Lego toys? And who is that man wearing goggles while strapped to a seat in a Blackhawk?

After Travis graduated from college, he joined the Air Force. "Good," I thought. "he will have good benefits and stable employment with a regular paycheck. He won't have to live on the street; there will always be a room in the barracks or a place in base housing." That was in 1992.

His superiors recognized leadership qualities in my son. They encouraged him to attend Officers' Training School. He completed the grueling course in 1994. I was happy for him and his family. An officer earns more money than an enlisted man. "They'll manage much better now," I thought.

North Dakota, New Jersey, The Azores (Lajes), South Carolina, Florida, Japan. Travis and his family have traveled, experiencing a variety of cultures. In the meantime, he has continued to move up through the ranks. First Lieutenant, Captain, Major . . .

I continued to be happy for him and proud of him. But it wasn't until September 11, 2001 that I understood how much I OWE him. When the Twin Towers fell, Travis was stationed in South Carolina. I lived in Louisiana. We watched the horrors and talked on our cell phones. Then the War On Terror began. Now people in the Air Force not only had steady jobs with regular income, they began to travel frequently to places with unfamiliar names.

Travis moved to MacDill AFB, Tampa, Florida. He worked with a group whose responsibilities included setting up tent cities in the deserts of several far away countries. He went TDY several times . . . to Afghanistan, to Saudi Arabia, to Iraq.

I realized at some point that Travis was not just my son in the Air Force. Travis had become, in a very real sense, my protector. He regularly laid his life on the line as he fulfilled his duties as an officer in the US Air Force. And he was laying his life on the line to protect my life. Not just my life, but the lives of all Americans. Because he is MY son, I take his work seriously. He took an oath to protect us. And I am part of that us, so he is MY PROTECTOR. Now I am not just proud of him; I am in his debt.

His time at MacDill came to an end; he and his family moved to Yokota AFB, near Tokyo, Japan. His job was at the base airport and involved few TDY's. In my mother-heart I relaxed a little. He would probably not be traveling to the "-stans" or worse places. I remembered an occasion when he had been to Afghanistan for several weeks. He was able to return home a few days before we expected him. Everyone knew he was coming home except me. He wanted to surprise me. One afternoon, my doorbell rang. There stood Travis, home early from Afghanistan. I couldn't breathe. I thought I was seeing a ghost. He grabbed me, hugging me tightly. I knew he was real, and really home. I sobbed. His being stationed in Japan would give us no cause to experience such anxiety, we thought. He has a calm job in a calm place.

Early one morning last spring, while I was dressing for work, my phone rang. Nobody calls me at that time of the day to chat. With apprehension, I answered. I heard Travis' voice.

"Mother," he said, seriously, "I have something to tell you. Can you talk for a minute?"

A mother always has time to talk with her son, especially when his voice has such grave overtones.

"I'm being deployed to Iraq."

With restraint, I questioned him while my heart was screaming, "NO!" My mind began to whirl. Easy job, calm place. No traveling to the "stans." Few tdys. What is happening here? All the while, my spirit was searching, searching, searching. Finally heart, mind and spirit united and I could speak.

"Son, wherever you go, you go in the palm of God's hand. He will guide you and protect you. I don't want this for you, but we are no different or better than the thousands of other families whose children, parents, siblings, or relatives are being deployed. If it is our lot to send you into the thick of the fray, then God be with us. I am at peace."

I heard Travis repeating my sentiments. The conversation was over. That was last spring. Today Travis is in Baghdad. I am still proud of him. I do not worry about him. I do realize that he has once again laid his life on the line to protect mine. Regardless of whether we agree with the reasoning behind the conflict, we are involved in the conflict. He is responsibly doing his job as assigned by his superiors. And I rest assured while he is protecting me, our God is holding him in the palm of His hand.

This thought makes my head spin. I think my relationship with Travis could be representative of all our relationships. We are all here for a purpose. And each of our purposes is part of a tightly woven web. We are here for each other. I am for Travis; Travis is for me; I am for you; you are for me.

Let your mind spiral around this idea for a while: God is for all of us and we are all for each other.

Thanks, Travis. I am indebted to you, and all the others like you who demonstrate selflessness while reflecting God's protective Hand in our lives.

Friendship Spirals Through the Years

As a missionary-under-appointment, raising support is high on my list of priorities. As a relational female, maintaining friendships is also close to the top of the priority list. When I realized I could combine the two, great joy arose in my heart!

June 27, I drove 12.25 hours, alone in my 2003 Toyota Corolla. Wait. I wasn't truly alone. Andrus and Blackwood, Michael Card, Michael Omartian and Willie K. were with me. We sang and rejoiced, worshipping together all the way from Plant City, FL to Spring Valley, AL.

On July 22, my faithful little white Corolla found itself parked again in its place in my garage.

In between, I visited nine churches. Each church has now agreed to partner in ministry with me as I work in Africa, inviting Christians to follow the Great Commission and MAKE DISCIPLES. Without exception, the pastors and congregations I visited received me with Christian warmth and promised to support my work, with both prayer and finances. Every service brought new and fresh blessings to my heart. The family of God is a vital part of my life. I don't know how I could function without this family.

In addition to visiting nine churches, I was privileged to sleep in a wide variety of beds. Two nights, I slept in motel rooms. Here's a list of the other places I slept:

In my niece Cheryl's house.

In my sister-in-law Jackie's house.

In my brother Stan's house.

In my brother Richard's house.

In my friends Tommy and Gladys' house.

In my friend Joette's house.

In my friend Susan's house.

In my friend Loretta's house.

In my friends Steve and Sally's house.

In my friends Roland and Carole's house.

Each home offered particular treats.

At Cheryl's house, I ate SNOW ICE CREAM! In July!!!
At Jackie's house, there was white syrup and butter with biscuits.
At Stan's house and at Richard's house, we devoured roast beef and all the fixings.
I didn't EAT at Tommy and Gladys' house. I didn't eat at Joette's house. But I practically drowned in affection at both places.
At Susan's house, I played with grandchildren.
At Loretta's house, there was a sense of having come home after being away for more than 30 years.
Steve and Sally poured love and kindness over me.
Carole and Roland shared their farm animals with me as well as their grandson.


This trip was about more than developing a support base for my missionary budget. This trip proved to me (beyond any doubt) that once two hearts are bound together in sacred Christian love, nothing can break those bonds. Years may spiral 'round and 'round. Vocations may lead friends to far away lands. Children grow. Dear ones are called up to Heaven. Yet the bonds of Christian love hold us tightly.

As I try to recount the blessings showered down upon me while I drove those 3500 miles, my mind and heart are overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude. Joy continues to bubble in my soul. I find myself remembering a few lines I scribbled on a wrinkled piece of notebook paper several years ago. I had attended a 40th birthday party for a man I had known since childhood. The sense of loving and being loved by this man and his extended family was almost tangible. In the dark of the night, while my husband drove us home, I tried to express the comfort love brings to me.

My Everlasting Support

I have felt myself surrounded by love.
Its strands weave themselves tightly
So that I find myself not only surrounded,
But also supported:
Love is the scaffolding
Love is the structure
Love is the strength
Upon which I stand.

When my muscles have grown soft
And my joints lose their power,
Love will hold me
Until I breathe no more.

I will slip from its grasp
And I will be buried
But the covering of love that I wore
Will stand forever.

Is that what scripture means?
“Now abide these three – faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.”

There is nothing to add to these lines. And there is no spiral strong enough to destroy love. No time spiraling from calendar pages, no spiral of change, no spiral of distance - Love abides. And I am most grateful for it. Grateful for the love that I receive as a precious gift from others. Grateful for the love that flows from my heart like water over Victoria Falls. It's love that holds my world together.

Thank God for the blessing of love.