Sunday, May 27

Princess Cruises wasted little time getting us started on our first activity. At 8:15 am, we boarded the sternwheeler Discovery for a narrated cruise along the Chena and Tanana rivers.

I was totally impressed with the design and execution of this narrated riverboat cruise. Rather than just rely on the beauty of the river and surrounding scenery, the narrator and staff immersed us in Alaskan history and culture.

First up, a discussion on Alaskan bush pilots. For nearly a century, these legends of Alaskan aviation have been traversing the mostly roadless Alaskan wilderness in often brutal weather conditions and rough terrain. They allow remote, off the grid families and villages to occasionally tap into towns to resupply, get healthcare, and access other services.

In the middle of this discussion, a real life bush pilot flew in and landed next to our riverboat! How cool is that? Our narrator interviewed him over the loudspeaker, providing even more insight into his training and operating environment. Then he took off from the water and soared into the clouds.

Next up, we arrived at the training site for the late Susan Butcher’s famous Iditarod sled dog team. After an accomplished dog mushing career, including a remarkable 4 Iditarod wins in 5 years, she sadly died from leukemia.

Fortunately, Trail Breaker Kennels, where she lived and trained dogs with her husband, remains in operation today…right along the banks of the Chena River. For us, that meant a live sled dog demonstration (which are always more impressive than ones using deceased dogs). Musher Laura Allaway explained the training process, took a team of dogs for a ride, and answered questions.

Three key takeaways…

1. The puppy sled dogs eventually become confident at overcoming big obstacles in adulthood because they are introduced to increasingly challenging obstacles. The puppies on the banks before us were being encouraged to crawl over a small, manageable log…one of the first steps in their training. (One puppy, who “knew better,” just walked around the log. He was placed on the management career track.)

2. The dogs’ attitude, demeanor, resiliency, and toughness…and even the composition of their body fur, is a product of their training and living environment. It got me thinking, as I sat in a comfortable chair, behind protective glass, in a climate-controlled room…might we be a little mentally tougher, resilient human beings if we allowed ourselves to exist for a while in less than optimum settings? Hmmm.

3. The 3rd and best takeaway relates to why dogs are chained to individual dog houses at the end of day. For more on that, and my other lessons from sled dogs, check out my next book…Faith in the Margins…a 365-day devotional book.

Our next stop on the riverboat cruise was a tour of an authentic Athabaskan village. We learned how salmon are caught with a fish wheel, cleaned, smoked, and preserved. Other presentations covered animal furs, native dress, housing, and other cultural aspects of Alaska’s original inhabitants.

After re-boarding the boat, I made two food decisions: one good and one terrible.

First, the good. I ordered the hearty, delicious reindeer dog and reindeer chili. Once you get beyond the notion of eating Rudolph and jeopardizing Christmas for millions of children, it’s a satisfying meal.

Next, the narrator announced that free samples of salmon dip would be available in the stern of the ship. Without hesitation, I raised the aft portion of my body off my seat, rotated starboard, and headed for the stern. Why? I don’t know. You see, I’ve hated salmon since I was a kid. I knew that. And yet, there’s something powerful in the words “free sample.” An absurd logic train enters my mind…eat enough free samples in life, and you’ll save enough money to put your kids through college. Even though my kids have finished college, I had to get my free sample.

At the sample station, I picked up a cracker…by that, I mean a thin, crispy wafer and not the colloquial term for white people. I scooped up a generous glob of salmon dip with said cracker, because…larger the free sample, quicker my kids get through college.

As I placed the entire sample on the back of my disproportionately large tongue, I immediately knew something was wrong. This was the second most disgusting thing I’d put in my mouth in the past decade…the first being the Gravy Train beef jerky I inadvertently ate during a walk on the Appalachian Trail.

The sweet lady behind the counter (aka, “the cracka servin’ cracka”) asked, “Isn’t it delicious?” With the fishy manure wad still resting on the back of my tongue, I barely opened my mouth and uttered, “Fabulous.” Lying on the Lord’s Day…shameful.

I was in a serious dilemma. I was also in Alaska, with salmon—a cultural icon, stuck in my mouth. I had just immersed myself in Athabaskan, salmon-loving culture, for goodness sake. Still, I wasn’t about to put the “free sample” in my belly, even if that would delay my sons’ education.

In true Mr. Bean mode, I quietly made my way to the side exit door, found a secluded spot by the rail and looked around. No one was in sight…good. I curled my tongue around the fishy ball of drywall repair, and launched it about 30 feet across the water, almost reaching the starboard bank. I must assume the clump will be eaten by alevin (look it up), thus completing what naturalist Sir Elton John called the Circle of Life.

Still suffering from fish mouth, I boarded the bus with my traveling companions and we headed toward the Denali Princess Wilderness Lodge. Highlight of that bus ride, for me, was driving by the place where Christopher McCandless went to live off the grid, as documented in the book and movie Into the Wild.

All in all, a wonderful first full day in Alaska, save for the free sample of salmon mush.

Saturday, May 26

On a first trip to Seattle, there are certain things one must do: ride to the top of the Space Needle, drink coffee with local hipsters, eat homemade mini donuts while walking around Pikes Place, watch cheese being made, watch men toss salmon at the fish market, take a ferry ride in Puget Sound, and visit Chittenden Locks. We did all that last year. Love the place!

On a second trip to Seattle, during a 9-hour layover, the list is reduced to 2 items: drink coffee with local hipsters and eat mini-donuts. Those were my two priorities today.

After storing our bags at the Sea-Tac airport USO, we took a train to downtown Seattle and rendezvoused with the rest of our traveling clan. Kyle led us to Caffe Ladro, his favorite of the 1,692 coffee shops in Seattle. He and Laci shared honey lavender coffee there during their honeymoon a couple years ago. They would do so again today.

On our way into the coffee shop, I noticed a pickup truck loaded with flowers parked in a no parking area in front of the store. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, as if asleep. This would be weird in most contexts, but wasn’t even in the Top 10 of odd/unusual people I’d seen on our 10-minute walk from the train station.

About half way through our coffee experience, we noticed a police officer approaching the back of the truck. After looking inside the truck, he backed up behind it, un-holstered his gun, pointed it at the driver, and called for backup. I assume the guy had something threatening in the seat, like a red MAGA cap.

The cop motioned for us to get out of the way, as sipping coffee behind a large window next to a police bust is not a recommended excursion on TripAdvisor. Continuing to sip our lattes, we shuffled through a side door and huddled in an adjoining lobby, just as 3 more cops arrived. These Alaska tours are awesome!

As the scene unfolded outside, I sang “Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when they come for you?” Moments later, the police, inspired by my song, stormed the vehicle and dragged the man to the ground. We jumped at the chance to exit the lobby and hurry down the street to safety.

Our next stop was the mini-donut shop at Pikes Place. I stood in line for 20 minutes to buy 3 dozen for our group. As we feasted on these tiny lumps of breaded wonder, one of the members of our group shared a personal story.

It seems the gentleman has Irritable Bowel Syndrome. For the purpose of the story, I’ll call him D-Wibs—Dude with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I’m not familiar with the condition, but my understanding is that when constipated, D-Wibs gets a bit snippy.

As I munched on my third cinnamon mini donut, D-Wibs shared that his condition sometimes causes him embarrassment in public restrooms. Specifically, his bowels make loud sputtering noises, like a Chevy with a damaged catalytic converter. We’ve all been there.

On a recent occasion, he was in the stall blowing trouser clouds at regular intervals, about 20 seconds apart. In an adjoining stall, a boy began anticipating the explosions, and whistling in advance to announce their arrival. Together, these two strangers could have scored the opening scene in Saving Private Ryan.

Consistent with his condition, D-Wibs became irritated. After finishing up, he waited outside the teen’s stall. According to D-Wibs, he wanted the boy to have to look in the eyes of the man he had whistle-taunted and fart-bullied…the man with Irritable Bowels. And that’s what happened…and that’s how the story ended. As a Fob W Pot, I appreciate the burden D-Wibs carries, and the bowel-shaming he endures in public restrooms and swimming pools. I plan to give him a hug each morning.

With donut powder still framing our lips, we returned to the airport by train and caught the 9 pm flight to Fairbanks, Alaska. I was thrilled to step foot off the plane and claim my 48th state!

As we were shuttled over to our Princess Cruises-owned hotel just passed midnight, I wondered about the recommended packing list. Specifically, they tell you to pack a flashlight. Why? After all, it was after midnight and still light outside!

A night with no darkness–that’s weird. A flower-toting, pickup truck driving guy getting jacked up by Seattle police–a little weird. A teen whistling in concert with my friend’s irritable bowels–weird as well.

Yes, it’s been a weirdly exciting day. But we’re in Alaska and super pumped for the opportunity to explore the Final Frontier!

Friday, May 25

Three to go. Yes, after 52 years on Planet Earth, I’ve visited 47 states, leaving just 3 to go. North Dakota, Michigan, and Alaska. Well, I should say “about 3.” My wife tells me I really haven’t done Hawaii, because she wasn’t with me. Following her logic, I also haven’t done childhood.

Regardless of the math, it’s time to take on Alaska…the Last Frontier. A state 2.5 times the size of Texas. A state with more coastline than all other states combined. A state with more inland water than any other state. Most importantly, the only state that can be spelled using a single row on a standard keyboard.

We arrived in St Louis to join up with our son, Kyle, and his wife, Laci. We will later join up with 10 more of her family and friends.

As we plopped down in their living room, their dog (our only grandchild) climbed up my torso and pounced on my face. She’s basically a large cotton ball with legs. She’s also a bichon frise, which in French means “please groom me.” My dad, her original owner, named her Pita, an acronym for a 4-word phrase beginning with “Pain.” As a minister, Kyle must claim she’s named after the flat, hollowed, unleavened bread. Who names their dog after bread? As Pita ran her tongue along the inside of my left nostril, I was convinced my dad had more accurately named her.

While we watched carpool karaoke, Kyle pulled out a little pair of scissors, the kind kindergarten teachers trash because they no longer cut. Right on queue, Laci put Pita in a headlock and Kyle began cutting her hair…about 3 cotton fibers per cut. Unable to handle the inefficiency of this money saving process, and the tears in Pita’s eyes, I looked away.

That night, a friend delivered us to the STL airport. We made our way to the USO lounge, a military hangout featuring free snacks, TVs, gaming consoles, and a room full of beds. After partaking of hot dogs, bowls of cereal and a game of Quirkle, we found 4 unoccupied beds on which to get a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow at 6am, we fly to Dallas, Seattle, and then Alaska!

“Thirty”

Just a number to some, one score and half again,

But to me, much more, these three decades with my best friend.

A mere friend, at first, a chance meeting, a harmless game,

You said I was “obnoxious”; I wanted to know your name.

We laughed when Willard warned us, “You might meet your future mate,”

In the hopes that he was right, I asked you on a date.

Was a memorable night for us, although my face blushed with shame,

We shared popcorn but no glances, as we sat through Purple Rain.

Four years later, down the aisle, time to give this marriage a try,

Our guests praised my tearful emotion, not knowing I had pink eye.

Not long after, another oath, this time to “support and defend,”

The Air Force gave us orders, “Be in Oklahoma by year’s end.”

There was romance, lots of love; as for passion, it was strong,

Then your water broke in the parking lot, and Jason came along.

Next came Valdosta, Georgia, along with Kyle, another son,

We built a home in a wooded grove, and gathered pecans just for fun.

Then onward to Texas, I still remember our first big fight,

Birds don’t nest in Cowboy boots; you know I was right!

Off to Illinois next, for the Cardinals we’ll cheer,

Then the orders said Alabama, I studied war for a year.

You asked for some bratwurst, so to Germany we went,

Eleven countries in two years, still in love, still content.

Ate some schnitzel, saw the sights, loved what Europe was about,

But when young Kyle yelled “Hiel Hitler!”… it was time for us to get out.

Next stop: Virginia, where we made so many friends,

But if I don’t make it to heaven, it’ll be the Pentagon again.

My career winding down, what was next on the slate?

Better pack some sunscreen, we’re headed for the Sunshine State!

Raising two sweet boys, you’ll agree was the best,

Then one day we looked around; we were alone in an empty nest.

We’d traveled so much, should we stop and settle down?

Nah, let’s get an RV, become gypsies, and travel round and round!

They ask us, “Where you from?” An easy answer for most,

For us, not so simple, as we travel from coast to coast.

May I suggest a better question, a favor for this wordsmith,

Ask not where we’re from, but who we’re traveling with.

You see, the difference in our journey, as we travel far and wide,

Has been God at the center, and you, Jan, by my side.

What a journey it’s been, what an incredible, fulfilling life,

Three decades later, dear, and I’m so thankful you’re my wife.

Our love still fresh and growing, our marriage strong and sturdy,

We’re in this till our deaths, but for now, let’s celebrate thirty!

An interview with Colonel Brad Johnson, Vietnam Veteran

Steve: “So, Dad, it started off as a routine mission?”

Brad: “As routine as a flying mission in a combat zone can be.”

Steve: “Late 1967?”

Brad: “Yes, not long before the Tet Offensive, which began in early ’68.”

Steve: “How did the day begin?”

Brad: “Pretty routinely. I was stationed in Saigon, piloting C-123 Providers. We hauled troops and cargo all around the country…wherever they needed to go to take the fight to the enemy. I don’t recall what our planned mission was, but we got an emergency call on the radio while in the air.”

Steve: “An audible.”

Brad: “That’s right. Emergency calls came on the Guard channel with the call sign “Hilda”. The Guard channel overrode all other frequencies.”

Steve: “So when you heard “Hilda,” you knew something had gone down or was about to go down?”

Brad: “Exactly. Our new mission was to change course and fly about 20 minutes to a remote, dirt airstrip, pick up 20-25 soldiers and transport them to another dirt airstrip near the front lines.”

Steve: “Something you had done many times before.”

Brad: “More than a thousand times that year. But this mission would be different.”

Steve: “How so?”

Brad: “When we landed, we were supposed to stay in the cockpit, keep the engines running, pick up the soldiers, and depart. But as I was taxiing, I noticed two morale vehicles with Donut Dollies nearby.”

Steve: “Donut Dollies?”

Brad: “Six or seven Red Cross ladies serving coffee and cool-aid to the troops. So, I lowered the stairs and exited the plane.”

Steve: “You were the pilot and yet you exited the plane in a combat zone to get a cup of coffee and visit Donut Dollies?”

Brad: “It was good coffee.”

Steve: “What happened next?”

Brad: “I spotted the shortest soldier of the bunch standing in line for coffee. He stood out because he had several rounds of ammunition draped over his shoulders. I walked over to him and asked, ‘Sergeant, how did the shortest guy in the company end up carrying all the ammunition?’ He replied, ‘Captain, I wasn’t this short when I started carrying it.’”

Brad: “I then had a quick cup of coffee, said hello to the Donut Dollies, and got back on the plane as the soldiers entered on the ramp in the rear.”

Steve: “And you were supposed to take them to another dirt landing strip closer to the front lines?”

Brad: “That’s right.”

Steve: “And that’s when the trouble started?”

Brad: “You could say that. About 10 minutes into the flight, sharp pain shot through my stomach causing me to double over. Something had shifted in my digestive track and it began to fill with air. The pressure on my bowels was intense and unsustainable. It was the kind of feeling you get when you’re about to experience the worst diarrhea you’ve ever had.”

Steve: “Guess that coffee wasn’t so good after all.”

Brad: “I don’t know if it was the coffee or something I had eaten back in Saigon that morning. But it was doing a number on me. I writhed in pain, which caused my co-pilot to get a little flustered.”

Steve: “So what’d you do?”

Brad: “I clenched my fists and sphincter and decided I was going to land that plane if it was the last thing I ever did.”

Steve: “The essence of bravery.”

Brad: “There weren’t a lot of options.”

Steve: “Were you able to land the plane?”

Brad: “With sweat pouring off my face and my colon bursting at the seams, I landed the plane on that short, dirt airstrip. The soldiers in the back began gathering their gear. I looked over at my co-pilot and told him I was about to literally explode. He replied, ‘Captain, go take care of it.’ Being this close to the front lines, we were supposed to drop off the troops and get out of there as quickly as possible. But I couldn’t afford to crap all over myself and the cockpit.”

Steve: “So you once again left the airplane.”

Brad: “Yep, we lowered the ramp for the soldiers to exit and lowered the stairs for me to exit.”

Steve: “But you’re essentially in the middle of a large dirt field?”

Brad: “Yes, but about 50 yards away, I spotted a small bush. It was one of the prickly ones common in Nam that you try to avoid. At this point, I figured I had about a 1 in 5 chance of being able to sprint to the bush to take care of business before the floodgates opened and my bowels emptied.”

Steve: “Bad odds.”

Brad: “Bad odds indeed…and a bad outcome. About 10 strides into my desperate sprint, I heard the terrifying sound of mortar.”

Steve: “Enemy fire?”

Brad: “No, my digestive dam had broken. I collapsed to my hands and knees as a thousand brown waterfalls exited my butt.”

Steve: “Oh my.”

Brad: “I struggled to my feet, but the aftershocks caused me to run in a zig-zag fashion toward the bush. With diarrhea cascading down the inside of my pant legs, I scrambled toward the bush, flush with embarrassment.”

Steve: “It’s a wonder you made colonel.”

Brad: “That’s the truth. Anyway, I finally made it to the little bush and positioned myself behind it. I looked up and spotted the soldiers beginning to exit the rear of my airplane. Huffing and puffing, I surveyed the damage, noting that my underwear and fatigue pants were completely soiled and would never be worn again…in Nam or any other war zone. The boots had sustained heavy collateral damage, but only on the exterior.”

Steve: “You were in Purple Heart territory.”

Brad: “Technically, no. The wounds were self-inflicted.”

Steve: “So what’d you do?”

Brad: “I stripped completely naked and tossed my soiled pants, socks, and underwear into the bush.”

Steve: “Where they remain today.”

Brad: “Probably. I then took off my fatigue shirt and t-shirt and used the t-shirt to wipe off my behind, legs, and boots. And then I tossed the t-shirt into the bush.”

Steve: “Leaving you with one shirt and a pair of boots.”

Brad: “And 50 yards back to the plane.”

Steve: “A plane with soldiers exiting out the back.”

Brad: “Exactly. I put my shirt and unlaced boots back on and began my second 50-yard sprint of the day, back toward the plane.”

Steve: “Naked from the waist down.”

Brad: “That’s right. I learned later from our loadmaster that one of the soldiers exiting the plane spotted me running across the dirt field and asked his buddy, ‘Who’s that?’…to which his buddy replied, ‘That’s our pilot.”

Steve: “But at least you made it back to the plane.”

Brad: “I did, although my co-pilot told me I stunk to high heavens. Once again, going against standard procedure, we lowered the windows for our departure and 20-minute flight back to Saigon.”

Steve: “So you piloted the plane naked from the waist down.”

Brad: “Well, I had boots on.”

Steve: “That makes me feel better.”

Brad: “We landed in Saigon and my co-pilot hollered out the window for one of the maintenance guys to loan me a poncho. I wrapped the poncho around my lower half, exited the plane, and headed toward Base Ops. The guys at Base Ops asked why I was wearing a poncho skirt. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them.”

Steve: “It’s not an easy thing to share. So, what happened next?”

Brad: “Wearing nothing but a shirt, poncho skirt, and unlaced boots, I got on my motorcycle and drove off-base to where I lived…the House of Joy, as we called it.”

Steve: “Joy?”

Brad: “Stood for Just One Year.”

Steve: “Did you ever replace the maintenance guy’s poncho?”

Brad: “No, but I plan to.”

Steve: “You’re the best dad ever.”

Brad: “It was an honor to serve.”

Johnson Family Newsletter

Volume XXX

504 Richard St, Union SC 29379

If you write annual Christmas letters long enough, you eventually arrive at the “XXX” edition! No worries though. There will be no seductive pictures of Steve’s colonoscopy scans or the two of us in our matching Elf leggings, passionately smooching under the mistletoe. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!) Instead, you’ll have to settle for our 30^th consecutive holiday missive…a recap of two adventurers living in a 300-square-foot house on wheels.

The first big event of 2017 was the 80^th birthday celebration for Steve’s dad, aka Grandpa. Grandpa’s year was highlighted by finding love again and marrying Gail, who we happily welcomed into the family. He also is courageously battling cancer which, to date, has been kept under control. He appreciates prayers but tells us not to worry about him because, “I’ve had a great life…made it to 80, which is longer than anyone in my family has. I’m not going to start complaining now.” There is peace in knowing your future is secure.

We returned to Tucson, AZ and our RV in mid-January, where Steve, aka Fob, with Janet’s superb editorial assistance, published his first novel, which chronicles his 2016 thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Many reading this letter have supported and encouraged Steve’s fledgling writing career, and for that he is grateful. When we weren’t stalking extraneous commas and dangling participles in the Arizona desert, we volunteered with the Tucson Food Bank…where we learned about food bag assembly lines, harvesting broccoli and chard, and building and maintaining earthworm farms. Steve found cultivating earthworms to be remarkably similar to his Pentagon tour.

In March, we pointed the RV west and then north on an ambitious Wild, Wild West Tour. Over the next 6 months and 8,000 miles, we…

• Volunteered, as Sojourners, at…
  • Yosemite Bible Camp, CA – tended to the mother of all burn piles at a camp heavily damaged by floods & fallen trees
  • Delano Bay Christian Camp, WA – prettiest spot on the Sojourning circuit; during play time, Steve learned to harvest giant clam-like gooey duck nostrils with a shovel
  • Yellowstone Bible Camp, MT – returned to the beautiful mountain camp we had visited 25 years ago, where Robert Redford once filmed A River Runs Through It
  • Rupert Church of Christ, ID – painting & VBS & more painting & more VBS
  • Mountain States Children’s Home, CO – home to some of the coolest kids and staff on the planet. Steve was invited to make his first Lessons Learned on the AT presentation, and has since shared versions of it at churches, schools, and civic organizations around the country.

• Hiked and were inspired at 15 national parks…
  • Joshua Tree – named for its trees (plants), but it’s more about rock climbing
  • Yosemite – stunning! Our favorite overall national park!
  • Sequoia, Kings Canyon, & Redwood – you have to see the trees to believe them
  • Crater Lake – 2^nd only to Yosemite in its beauty, especially with 12’ snowfall banks framing the rim
  • Olympic – incredible variety, including a rainforest
  • Yellowstone – 2^nd favorite park and the best for wildlife and geothermal activity
  • Grand Teton – visited on an overcast day, but did see a mother Grizzly + 2 cubs
  • Zion – features the Narrows…best national park hike we’ve done and one of the best canyon hikes in the world; also featured a visit from relatives Dana & Cody
  • Arches – turns out the park is not named after parts of the foot formed by the tarsal and metatarsal bones
  • Capitol Reef – go for the history and 100-mile-long Waterpocket Fold; stay for the warm, homemade pie at the Gifford Homestead
  • Bryce Canyon – went to the hoodoo-filled amphitheater & sang Bryce, Bryce Baby
  • Canyonlands – teared up at the spot where Thelma & Louise plunged to their deaths
  • Rocky Mountain – John Denver got it right

• Explored several cities…
  • San Diego – easily our favorite CA city. Nearby La Jolla, with its magnificent shoreline and hundreds of seals, belongs on everyone’s bucket list.
  • Los Angeles – not fans. Horrendous traffic, smog, over-crowding, the Lakers, etc. We did enjoy attending the filming of America’s Got Talent…and the behind-the-scenes look at movie-making on the Warner Brothers Studio Tour.
  • San Francisco – featured Steve’s favorite West Coast city attraction…Alcatraz Island!
  • Portland – every city should have a Powell’s used book store
  • Astoria, OR – Da Goonies met Da Johnsons
  • Seattle – did we watch them toss salmon at Pike Place Market; ascend The Needle; and visit the first Starbucks? Of course, we did!
  • Hill AFB, UT – a great military RV campground to finish Fob’s Vol 2, so we did
  • USAF Academy, CO – another great military campground, where we watched the eclipse

In September, we traveled to hurricane-ravaged Beaumont, TX, for a week of relief work with the Church of Christ Disaster Response team. If you ever think you’ve got it bad, spend some time with people whose every last physical possession was under water. With God’s help, they and others affected by the ’17 storms will get back on their feet.

In October, we finally sold our Virginia house and happily relinquished the landlord title we’d held for 9 years. We also returned to Marshall, TX for our annual Sojourner workshop, where we caught up with “old” friends and made an appearance (along with our RV) in a few Sojourner promotional videos…viewable at sojourning.org or on Facebook at “Sojourners Evangelism.” We then traveled around the Southeast visiting friends and family we hadn’t seen in a while.

In November, we gathered with our sons and their wives for a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend in Pennsylvania’s Pocono mountains. Despite arranging them private rooms, there are still no grandbabies to announce. We are excited that Jason & Rachel will be moving to Winston-Salem NC in January where he’ll begin his second year of residency in Prosthetics & Orthotics. Meanwhile, Kyle continues his ministry work with the Lafayette church near STL as he and Laci both work to finish their graduate degrees and raise Pita (a precocious Bichon Frise with her own Instagram account).

This holiday season, we’re thankful for family and friends around the country. We’re thankful for our little home on wheels. It forced us to downsize and simplify, and that has opened up opportunities around the country to travel, serve, meet incredible people, and write a few books. Mostly, we’re grateful to God for sending Jesus, a gift that keeps on giving. Merry Christmas!