What is T.E.?

T what?

T.E. It stands for Technical Evaluation.

It is 10 days of testing a pilot or mechanic's skills to determine if they are technically competent as well as if they will be a good fit with the organization. Essentially, it is a extended and thorough job interview.

Thus we are both flying to to North Carolina January 4-17. From 9-5 (more or less) John will be asked to troubleshoot engine problems, perform routine maintenance and probably work on airplanes he has no previous experience with, and hopefully by the end of his evaluation they will tell him he has passed. At first we weren't sure whether or not I would join him there, but as we talked to other couples who went to T.E., who strongly encouraged wives to come, we made the decision that I would go too. The facility there has a pretty established community, so I am sure I won't get too lonely during the day while John is busy.

Just to clarify, we are currently accepted with Africa Inland Mission(AIM); however, this evaluation is specifically for the aviation branch, AIM AIR. We are excited about this next step, knowing it brings us to the point of just needing the rest of our funding before we begin orientation in the fall and then off to Kenya!

Please pray for safety in travel and that John would be able to accurately represent his skills and not get too stressed out over the whole thing, but would trust that God is sovereign over the entire evaluation.

We've moved!

Ok, so it was only 7 blocks. We are still in the same neighborhood of the lower South Hill, but we really wanted a little bit bigger living space because we have people over so often. We started looking for a new abode about a month ago when we found the humble little apartment that we moved into just before Thanksgiving.

We kept thinking we were crazy to go through all the hassle of moving since we are planning to move again in 10 months. However, now that we are settled in, we are really excited to be here.

Here is our living room right when you walk in the front door.

Here is the other side of our living room, facing the front door

Looking into the dining room from the living room.

Dining Room

In the dining room, looking into the kitchen through a wonderful little window.

The Kitchen (Claire's favorite room in the house)

Our tiny bedroom (yes the bed takes up the whole room) And just because I think John is amazing, I have to note that he made the frame that is situated around the bed (it was his wedding gift to me!)

Another wonderful thing about living in older homes is getting a large clawfoot bathtub.

Though we only plan to be here until September of next year (when we are scheduled to leave Spokane and head to orientation), we are thankful that we will get to spend our last months in this quaint little place, so ideal for hosting dinner parties, and generally inviting people into our home.

Pray with us that this place will be full of God's love and that all who come into it will feel overwhelming welcomed and at home!

Cliche Metaphores + Dying Leaves = Deep Thoughts

Using Autumn as a metaphor for change in life seems so cliche. However, if you live somewhere, like we do, where the changing colors deciduous leaves is so dramatic, it's hard not to get sucked into some deep contemplation on account of having the erie sense you are living inside a Thomas Cole painting. Current contemplative reflections have included the evolving awareness of how much our lives will change when we move to Kenya and (on a much lighter and strictly weather-related note) a dread of the coming winter (which is predicted to parallel the winter of 08-09 with its 6+ feet of snow; oh joy).

Here are some pics of the changing leaves in our neighborhood.






Moving to Kenya our lives will change. A lot.
As more time passes since our trip to East Africa this past summer, we are beginning to see more clearly how our lives will change when we move there. Already we are being changed. Being confronted with the poverty, the need for aviation, the beautiful people, and something else that can't quite be described only experienced, has ushered us into a season in which our perspectives are changing, our values are shifting and our hearts are undergoing some major renovations.

What is really important? How much money should we be spending on rent? How much space do we really need to live comfortably? How important is comfort anyway? Do we really need all our stuff? What does it mean to be thankful for what we have, but not find our comfort and identity in it? How should we really be spending our time? Perhaps these questions are to be expected of anyone planning to move to Africa, but we find ourselves thinking about them here and now, both in regards to our future, but also our present. These questions (and a couple dozen more) seem to creep into every conversation and decision. We look to scripture for fixed answers to these questions and see that we are confronted with the challenge (and freedom) to "walk in the Spirit." Somehow, there are no right answers, yet we embrace the Big Story we know we are a part of and use that to help us answer these questions.

There is a Redeemer, and He is redeeming brokenness. He brings beauty out of ashes and light out of darkness. He cares for the poor, He is zealous for justice, He sacrificed Himself and is calling us to sacrifice ourselves. To sacrifice our time, our perceived need for comfort and predictability and to sacrifice our own narcissistic desires to serve people who will likely never repay us (except for, of course, with their smiles and joy, which is worth more than anything money can buy).



Just give me an electric blanket and down booties and I may survive
On a much (and I do mean very much) lighter (and some might add trivial) note, Fall has been a daily reminder that Winter is coming. Already, I have begun to wear long underwear almost every day, and already I am drinking 4-6 cups of hot tea every day just so I can hold the warm mug in my hands and keep them warm. I am fairly certain that my tolerance for cold has greatly decreased over the past 5 years, and I am thinking this must be God's way of preparing me to relocate to a tropical climate. However, I still have to make it through the next 6 months of frigid Spokane tundra.

Perhaps it sounds like I am complaining (and maybe I am), but there is one thing that the decreasing temperatures is doing (maybe it the whole colored leaves, living in a painting, provoking deep thoughts thing) and that is that I am continually confronted with how easily my joy is dependent on being comfortable. If I am comfortable, I am happy. If I am uncomfortable, suddenly the wicked witch of the West (or at least a distant cousin) shows up. I am unmotivated to get out of bed (the floor is cold), accomplish anything (which would require throwing off my blanket and getting off the couch), or even invite people over (mostly because I would have to do the first two things. In a word, I become lazy and selfish. Ick. And all this just because we can't afford to heat our apartment to a charming 85 degrees. So, I am learning (or at least praying that I am) to not let my joy or my contentment be dependent upon what the thermostat says. Amy Carmichael is my hero in this. If only I could have an ounce of her joy and peace in trying circumstances (And yes, I fully realize that being slightly less warm than I would like can hardly be called a trial.) I am consoled, though, to know that the God who gave her joy and peace in her circumstances is the same God who provides for me to have hot cups of tea, and who can ultimately give me joy and peace in Him, if only I would seek it there rather than in being roasty toasty all the time.


Here are some fun pics from going apple picking.

Children of Kibera

I recently realized that these pictures were never posted! So, here are some of the sweet faces of the children we met at a school in Kibera.

Poverty and Joy

By Clarissa

I am occasionally caught with that far off look of longing when I see someone with the latest apple gadget (read here iPad or iPhone 4). Though I know it cognitively, I must continually repeat to myself that getting said item will not bring me lasting happiness and technological paradise on earth.

When we were in Kenya this summer, I had the opportunity to meet someone who John and spent much time with on his previous trip to Kenya.


Joyce is full of life, but most of us would not say that her life is full. At least not by the standard that we often use. She has never been to the beach. She eats almost the same thing every day. There is no running water in her home. She doesn't go to concerts, or shop for new clothes, or google things whenever she has a question. And she definitely does not have an iPhone.

And yet her smile is constantly be spilling out. Joy seems to eek out of her. Even when talking about her concerns for where money will come from to send her kids to school, there is a radiance about her that can only be described as the aroma of Christ.

She invited us to spend a day with her at her home in Kibera and we felt like royalty as she proudly welcomed us into her humble dwelling.

She asked us about our families, what hardships we had endured in life and listened compassionately as we shared some of our own struggles. Struggles, that while very real to us, seemed somehow a lot less important as we sat in the middle of the largest slum in Africa.

Joyce and her family are a constant reminder to me. A reminder that true joy is found in knowing that God's goodness does not hinge on my circumstances. And certainly a reminder that having the newest and coolest apple thing will not bring all the happiness that the commercials promise.

Joyce's Kitchen

Joyce's oldest and youngest.

Some of the wonderful meal prepared for us!

She showed us her neighbor's Sakuma Wiki Garden. It seems miraculous that anything green can grow in Kibera. The kale-like greens are grown in sacks so that in the event of an emergency they can take them with them.

These three beautiful girls were sitting on a pile of garbage just outside Joyce's home.

Into Southern Sudan, Part 1

Note: We are finally back in the states! However, we still have lots of pictures and stories that we have not had a chance to blog about, so we will slowly be adding new blog posts over the next few weeks to try and catch up with all the stuff we still have to share.

We find ourselves in bed, under a mosquito net, thanking Jesus for the rain the previous day that had broken the muggy heat of Lokichoggio. Outside of our window we can hear the village just on the other side of the fence clapping and signing. I can only imagine the tall guant Turkana people bouncing in their traditional turkana hop dance. Ornate bead work rattling around their necks & bright blankets gleaming in the firelight.

I can hear a goat bleating in between the sharp claps and I wonder if he is dinner. What are they celebrating? Some unique tribal holiday, or perhaps receiving of food relief?

Flying up to Lokichoggio takes only 2 1/2 hours. It is flight that replaces two solid days of driving. On the way we passed a river that caught the sun so that it looked like a liquid gold flowing between lush green forests I thought as we crossed it that this must be some of the most beautiful country in the world. Soon after that river the deep green faded to rusty brown. Instead of sparkling rivers we saw dry beds, vacant of any moisture. In the rainy seasons these smears turn to rivers but now they are mocking reminders of thirst. I was awed by the contrast and wondered how anyone could live in such a desolate place.

We stayed in Lokichoggio for two nights with a missionary family, of which the husband is a pilot. On the third day we joined him on a flight into Sudan.

The Turkana people who live in the Northern dessert-land of Kenya are like the environment. Harsh and thorny. They are not precisely hostile, but they are not like other Kenyans who are smiling at you before they even know you. They have a nomadic history and settled in the Lokichoggio area because it was possible to dig down into the dried river where, a few feet beneath the dusty surface, there is water.

There were tons of bushes and trees with huge thorns. Needless to say, the environment did not have a very friendly feel to it.

Because we were just passing through and did not have the opportunity to build relationships with any of the Turkana people, we didn't want to take their picture blatantly and offend them. However, this website has great photos of the Turkana people.

A desert rose, one of the few splashes of color we saw.

An aerial view of the dried river bed in Lokichoggio.

This house where we stayed was built by a Austrian man in the 70's. It is made entirely out of containers.

Why Sudan?

Sudan has been in the news a lot recently. Perhaps too much as it is easy to tune it out. Twenty years of bloody civil war has earned the country a spot on the genocide list. At least 2.5 million people have been displaced in the Darfur region as a result of the conflict, and it is estimated that as many as 400,000 people have been slaughtered. Being the largest country in Africa and having 597 different tribes, the needs in Sudan are vast and deep. One AIM Air pilot estimated that as much as 75% of the flying that AIM does is into Sudan. Because of the instability of Sudan, historically many humanitarian and mission organizations have had to be based outside of the country. Kenya, being a stable country and sharing a bit of border with Sudan is an ideal place to have a base for flying in and out. Lokichoggio, located in the northeastern corner of Kenya, is only 20 miles from the border. It is hot, dry, and remote.

Lokichoggio is still strategic, it is still a vital part of the ministry of AIM Air to Sudan, enough that two pilots and their families are based there.

Because of Lokichoggio's ideal location, at the height of the genocide and conflict in Sudan, this place was the largest UN base in the world. They built a road from the airport into town, a road which is now so dilapidated and and full of massive potholes, that everyone actually drives on the side of the road instead.