It’s been a while since our last blog entry, at least it seems that way to us. So much has happened in the last weeks, so much learned that we’ve hardly had time to rest and convey all that’s happened without sounding in despair. I usually refrain from prefacing what I say but I do want our intentions to be clear. This post will be long but broken up into shorter sections for people like me who cant sit and read a blog for more than 5 min. Some stories and lessons told here will sound rough. These are not a cry for help or money, we have only given our word to be honest and open with anyone who cares to peer into our life.
7/19/11 The Mourne Mountains – We got to Northern Ireland with Anna and her wonderful family who took us in and the next day headed to the Mourne Mtns. It was like a dream come true for me. The park had almost no trees and so with the help of her father’s topo map we went a couple miles up the trail and then made our own way. First up a waterfall called the Black Stairs toward Slieve Donnard, the tallest of the Mourn Mts, and rounded the left side of it chasing a small heard of sheep. We plunged into a thick cloud and soon became damp as if rained on. Visibility shortened to maybe 100ft made traversing the mt difficult and scrambling across the patches of loose boulders uneasy work. Intersecting the Mourne wall at the Bog of Donnard we made our way down. After first attempting to cross the bog we decided it was not possible and used the wall as our path. The Mourne wall, who know how old, was made of large stones about 2 – 3 ft wide, not all of which were firmly planted, and at pints reaching close to 20 ft above ground. We were forced to stare at our next step keeping a close eye on loose stones and at that height the wall path moved by you at a faster pace than the ground below on either side creating the illusion that the ground all around you was moving like the ocean. The disorientation made the possibility of falling greater, which was frightening not for fear of the impact but more for fear of being sucked into the bog. We eventually came to a place we could cross and found our way out of the cloud. The map showed a “Hares Castle” where we intended to stay the night, but as much as we searched found no castle. We later learned a “castle” sometimes refers to a cliff-type geological formation, of course. So finding a flat spot in a small gorge we camped on the unavoidable soggy ground. By this point drying and warming were greatly desired so a fire was easily started from dead grasses and brush pulled from the mossy ground, but the high wind cause the fire to become erratic and burnt a couple small holes in our tent. So we went without. The next day we found another part of the wall and followed alongside it seeing as the walls had the most trail-like path being somewhat dry. Summiting the top of Slieve Binneard to a spectacular view excited and strengthened our souls. Not using our best decision making skills, we made our own way straight down to the lake. The mountain side was surely made for only goats hooves and like everywhere the ground oozed with water at every step, falling was often. At the bottom we were pleased to find a paved path we intended to take to the end of the second lake where the map showed a “shelter stone”. But seeing the second lake started atop an intimidating damn and doubting Shelter Stone was any sort of shelter we just camped on the beach. Deciding to make the third day our last in soggy feet we just hiked out and hitched a ride close to town where Anna picked us up and took us home to some hearty Irish potatoes, showers and a bed.
7/23 Breaking Point – Busses go from Belfast to Dublin every hour so when our day caused us to miss the 5 o’clock we weren’t too worried. But the 6 o’clock ran a little behind, and taking a hurried taxi to the ferry port we found they stopped boarding long before departure and were told to come back tomorrow morning. This meant paying for another taxi back to the hostel where we stayed a few nights ago. We got there to find it totally full and had to carry our burdensome bags to the other side of Dublin. I resisted speaking as one by one all the wheels on our remaining suitcase broke off. We paid for a couple beds and were informed no busses ran early enough so we called for another taxi in the morning, dragged our stuff up 2 flights of stairs and collapsed. Total exhaustion had finally set in: physically after 3 days in mountains, moving 80 lbs on and off busses and cars, up and down stairs, and across a city I was done; emotionally the stress of constant moving, deteriorating finances, and flight bookings going wrong put communication between Mel and I in a rough spot; and spiritually God’s voice was scarcely heard, His peace hard to come by, and favor not seen as one by one our contacts in places we were headed in a couple days fell through. Sitting on the floor against our bunk bed my wonderful wife pushed me to spend some time with God (knowing I should but not wanting to) so I prayed this from my journal –
What can I trust, God, when everything is like water to me, nothing firm nothing secure. Do I trust in what I see? Cause where you’re sending me is your two sided coin of life and death. I know you say you always lead to life, but sometimes its disguised in death so you can see if we’re willing to give it up to get it. So my eyes have become tricksters in truest form. I should trust in what I hear, but what do I have when your voice is absent from my ear? I surely can’t trust my feelings cause they got me here in the first place. But what do I do when what is meant to express who I am is now determining who I am. How I’d want to be rid of them! Can I trust my favor when I don’t perceive its path in front of me nor the trail it leaves behind? What about your promises, the prophetic voices from my past? If forgetfulness didn’t plague me so, then I might have something more to hold on to but even what gets past that demon comes beaten by the confusion of interpretation. Oh, but I can definitely trust in where your sending me right? But what if I can’t feel your leading to that place? Again back to my feeling! I know you are good to me and that you’re more real than the ground I’m standing on, but only if what I knew was as real as my feelings were tangible, then feelings would be put back in its place uniting with what is real, confirming and showing the reality within me. But I’ve stared so close at this pebble now it looks like a mountain! So I can only trust you, my Daddy, to take me back so I can see the size of the matter. And the fact of the matter is that I am Your son. So the reality is that sons aren’t to be concerned with pebbles anyway.
7/26 6pm, London, England- We have to leave tomorrow. A whisper tells us to go to Paris and so the decision is made to get on a night bus to Paris tomorrow in hopes to connect with a cousin I have never met.
7/28 Paris, France- Spencer and I sit at a McDonalds table splurging on a burger and fries. It is so good to eat something besides a pb & j, besides this is the one spot in Paris that offers free wifi. We finish our meal and begin to search for a way out of Paris. After over an hour of no luck a man comes and yells at us in French to leave. That goes down in the greatest feats in my life, getting kicked out of a McDonalds. We pack up and leave without finding a way to leave Paris. Defeat.
Back at our overpriced cheap hotel we sit squished on the floor of a 3’ x 3’ shower and let the hot water pound our heads. Through tears we confessed our fears, mistakes, & doubt. In that moment I realize one of the greatest mistakes of our trip. Our fear has been masked by the illusion of faith. All along we have fooled ourselves and others by believing that our spontaneous travel is simply letting God lead each step of the journey. Yet the root of it all is that if things start to go wrong and we run out of money we can bail and go home without having plane tickets bought in countries we are not yet at. And so now we are at the point where we ask if we should just go home? Things are not going well for us, we are quickly running out of money, and yet deep within ourselves we know we must keep going. We now have our flights and visas for Mozambique, which is no simple task, and we know that God wants us there in September. However, in the moment giving up and going home sounds so sweet.
The next morning we go directly to the train station to again try our luck in getting a ticket out of France. With clenched teeth we purchase tickets to Milan. The rest of the day is dedicated to being tourists. We wondered our way through the city, strolling the courts of cathedrals and museums. “Spencer?” I hear someone call across the courtyard of the Louvre. I turn and see our good friend Britta from Knoxville. The rest of the day is brightened with friendship. She treats us to a sidewalk café dinner and we part at the Eiffel tower as the sun sets through the layer of smog.
7/29 – Milan, Italy – Paris decided not to lighten up even on our way out. We woke up early to a frantic morning of almost going to the wrong train station, leaving our tickets in the hotel, and had we made just one later metro connection we’d have missed our train out. Once on board the busy city faded, with relief, to an unmatched beauty of green mountain cliffs dropping their way to winding rivers. And as we skirted along the Swiss Alps across the wide lakes a few monstrous snowy peaks showed themselves from behind just long enough to invite me in, but I reluctantly gave them a rain check. Our layover in Geneva was long enough to find free internet and the address for a cheap hotel in Milan. This will be our place of rest for a few days to get things sorted. On arrival we took the metro as far as it goes to hop on a bus, then walk for almost an hour. Only with the help of the amazingly friendly locals we find the address but there was no hotel. Some people finally come out of the house we were wondering around to look at the address we had. Through broken English the woman points to the address and asks “Milano?”
“Yes”
“This Brugherio”
Oh no! the directions we got had led up to the same address in a different town. So after two more hours of carrying our ridiculous packs we find the only hotel in the town for the night. The next day we found our way easily to the real hotel in Milan and rested. In our 3 days there we hardly left the hotel. We had a lot to figure out and so we really buckled down, got the rest of our time in Europe sorted and relaxed. During that time I had a short conversation with my good friend Iain where I was enlightened to something so simple but necessary to a healthy relationship. I get caught up needing to minister and pour out to others to feel alive and there is truth in that, but just like our relationship with God is a self sustaining atmosphere of life and love, we can have the same in marriage. My focus is to be ministering to Melody and giving her all of my love, above anyone else. And when she does the same, and together we give all to God and receive everything He is giving to us, our marriages become their own houses where we can live in continuous cycle of love, acceptance, comfort, and joy. In that place I shouldn’t need anything else.
8/1 – Ancona, Italy – Our bus tickets only said North Ancona so we assumed it would drop us off at a central bus stop. Instead the bus pulled over 50ft passed the toll booth on 15K outside the city. It was late, dark and we didn’t know how far it was to the city. Luckily it was all farm where there wasn’t interstate so we hoped over to a field and pitched our tent.
The next day had no choice but to walk along the interstate and where the shoulder ended we jumped over to into a neighborhood and meandered through till we found a bus stop. The bus drove for 10 min into Ancona. Climbing a long hill we came to what we thought was a place we could camp and found it to be a community park. Seeing we had no other option we scouted out a secluded plot and stashed our bags. We found the hot spots in the city then returned before it got dark and hid out till the park closed then made camp.
We were disturbed through the night at the thought of getting caught. We had become like orphans not knowing what we were doing and forgetting our purpose and identity. God is a King and His children don’t behave that way. He had not come through in the way we thought He would only because our thoughts were only those of ones who believe their father doesn’t care and are set out to survive. So we repented and in the morning we searched for hotels. Not a single hotel was available except for a four star on the waterfront. Knowing staying here would deplete our funds we booked it feeling God wanted us to. This is a side of God I’m still trying to grasp; God does always provide but that doesn’t mean it will be in the cheap or free zone. He loves His children and if He wants to give them a four star hotel He will. The next few days we could relax and finally enjoy ourselves. We were filled every morning with an amazing buffet and made sure to discover the delicious pastas and pizzas Italy was known for. We were overwhelmed to have a blessing of such great food since we looked forward to it for so long. And we found our joy is much determined by food J. So after exploring ancient buildings and finding a beach at the bottom of 200ft cliffs we continued on.
8/6 – leaving Europe – After Ancona we spent the night on a ferry to Greece and took a bus to Athens where it luckily dropped us off in the center right next to the Temple of Olympian so we could see the age old artifacts of Zeus’ temple before we headed to the airport. Our night in the airport was not the best, but it was only one more night on an airplane then we would be in Cape Town, South Africa and with family.
