POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 4

Minnesota, you are pure delight! All I can say is Earth, water, air and fire... I could never have anticipated the healing you'd restore to my weary bones, nor the energy you'd infuse for later use.

I wasn't nearly sold on you and guess what - you've won me over! I knew we had valuable relationships hibernating, waiting to be ignited, but my expectations were obliterated, completely blown away...

In a Latin American school both Liz and I had taught in years ago, there existed a strong affiliation between the school and a Minnesotan University. The institution we worked at regularly welcomed students of this university, with some of their tertiary students also completing on-the-job-training and being hired by our organisation after graduation.

As I look back on those days, I recognise that many of these uni-students (college kids) lacked maturity. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for keeping it cool, having fun, making noise, and generally being extremely naughty (I'm actually renowned for it) - but that's not what I'm talking about.

The uni-students and new teacher recruits seemed to be missing something. I'm referring to the lack of general knowledge about the World, social faux pas, a lack of common sense, taking themselves waaaaaaaaaaaaay too seriously, etc. In short, some of my colleagues nicknamed these uni-students "Minnesodumbs."

Yikes! A bit rude, even for this no-nonsense Aussie. I never referred to them in this manner, but in terms of these young folk, I could kind of see why they were dubbed in this way (so sorry Minnesotans, please keep reading! I was wrong, SO very wrong...).    

"Good morning ladies and gents, it's time to put this Big Bird down", chimed in the chirpy pilot. Yuppo, have to confess, still reeling about the lack of "professionalism" served up by American airline carriers, but promise I won't go on about it too much more.

It's the airports' turn now. I'm going to have-a-go at America's finest airports, who in this period of mass-privatisation are "blessed" with increased passenger numbers, more imposed efficiencies (only ever cost cutting. Just chat with airport workers, they'll set you free with the truth), and lots of hoops for passengers to jump through. "Sit. Heel. Roll over. Beg!"  Next time you're in an American airport, just sit back and watch - it's like being at Sydney's Royal Easter Show watching the dog trials in the main stadium.

Chicago's O'Hare was an aviation disappointment to Jeddo. However, Minnesota's terminal left me aeronautically despairing. Who do we blame? Washington (notice I'm posting this blog AFTER our trip to the Capital?).

After September 11, the American government sought to carefully continue on its plan of civil aviation deregulation. In the West, (Australia and GB are no exception) we strive to make sure the free-market-model works, even if we have to bleed billions of dollars propping up failing business entities who have unfairly suffered at the hand of unions, terrorism (sorry, I know some people think unions and terrorism are the same thing), technological advancement, economic downturns, increased fuel costs, unfair innovative competition, leftist governments, fluorescent clothing, difficult crossword puzzles, pink backward-flying pigs and dandruff. What can I say - life presents challenges.  

Long story short, Delta Airlines bought out Minnesota's Northwest Airlines. Thousands of jobs were moved from Minneapolis to Atlanta, consequentially damaging the Twin City's economy.  The airport terminal we arrived in seemingly reflected this tearing away to the South.

"Oh dear", I lamented. "It's a sad thing for the north region, but airline consolidation in the USA is long overdue." You get what you pay for I guess. Airline tickets in the World's biggest economy haven't risen in many years, and that's why you sit with your knees tucked up your nose, and purchase styrofoam flavoured food from tired, overworked flight attendants - but I'm back onboard the aircraft again!!! So sorry, I'll just disembark this emergency landed blogliner - Oh dear, the ding-dang-blogcraft door won't release! Due to efficiencies it wasn't possible to have it serviced I guess...

Oh well, you'll have to ride through the memoir turbulence I'm currently experiencing. I have fond memories of Northwest Airlines, they were the airline that carried my brother and I from Sydney to Indianapolis when we attended Bill Gothard's training camp in the old Stouffer's Hotel on Meridian Street.

I was a lad of only 16 years. Upon completion of "child in crisis" training, I returned to Australia just prior to my brother, and I have to say Northwest Airlines were amazing.

I didn't officially travel as an unaccompanied minor, but you know how it is with old fashioned airline service, children used to be treated with compassion and charity. And as it turned out, I was treated like a king - thank you Northwest, thank you Viking people of the north.

And so back to Minneapolis I returned - as a man. The passenger terminal hadn't changed a bit - literally I think. The decor was tired and shabby. "Oh no," I contemplated. "Minnesota's not looking too flash."

But, conversely, waiting at our baggage carousel was the exceedingly delightful looking Dom-Dom and her new Peruvian handsome husbo, Walther. Dominique is a favourite of the Brien family. During our time in Guadalajara, Mexico, we spent many a morning, noon and night with this delectant of a lady.

I have to hover over this meeting for a sec. Why? Well, to tell you of a Cindarella-esque transformation. Dom's Dad isn't dead and she doesn't have a wicked step-mumma, actually quite the opposite. Dom's Dad spends every day saving lives as a community respected doctor and her Mum IS a heart of Christ - warmth? Nope, she's HOT! (stay with me) You know, she's just one of those people who simply looks at you with and through a lens of love.

It's no wonder Dom turned out the way she did. She's blessed with her father's compassion for humanity, and has had Christ sewn through her since birth, by an attentive, Kingdom-conscious mother.

However, way back in Guadalajara, Dom was a recent graduate and we joined her for the second year of her teaching career. I liked the girl straight away. She was nothing of the naive girls I mentioned we worked with. She was constantly scaffolding information about the world around her, in that mighty mental machine she was blessed with.

She was poor like us. Having just left university she was starting from scratch. She had a laptop, change for the bus and a great attitude. We built many fun memories in the staff room, our lounge room, her classroom and any other room we used as a make-shift party habitation.

I say "habitation", because we were EXTREMELY into fancy-dress parties (Liz and I always have been) - decoration was key to a night out-in. To be honest, our parties kept us laughing, released some of the teacher-tension we experienced daily, and helped us to dream of bigger things than the solitude of our cupboard sized classrooms would allow.

But Dom was poor. She wore clothes from her university days, still looking like phase-one adult, not really having figured out the image she would "present" to the world.

Well, the woman we now saw before us had truly been through her cocoon phase. In Minneapolis's baggage hall stood before us an educated, knowing, sophisticated, professional woman. Liz and I were both taken aback. We hugged and laughed and chatted dim wittingly. I practiced my rusty, barrio Spanish on Walther as we clip-clopped our way from the terminal to Dom's car.  

We drove out onto the freeway and I began to feel hope for Minnesota. "It's kind of pretty" thoughts zipped through my cranium. We then turned off into parts of the Minnesotan city and suburbs and I began to feel fondly for the state. Minnesota's GORGEOUS! 

As we traversed across the broad state, my love for Minnesota continued to grow. From deer in the paddocks, to endless dazzling lakes and rolling hills, Minnesota is simply sumptuous.

We arrived at Dom's lakefront home and stood with jaws gaping. Dom's family were all there to greet us and were equally as beautiful as Dom, her parents, their home, the lake, and everything else that filled our senses. 

Over the next few days we became busy trying to relax. The food was scrumptious, we learnt how to drive a jetski, we rode aboard a tyre behind a boat, and chatted around the fire of an evening.

We played cards and laughed until we cried. We also cried. It was an emotional time for Dom's family. It seemed as though their nest was previously full-as-a-goog and in a matter of just minutes everyone was marrying and moving abroad. Emotions ran high. Thankfully, so did the a/c, providing thousands of places to both hide and seek.

In all, I thank God for people like Dom's family. They make love look easy, selflessly throwing themselves at those in need around them.

Liz and I had come to the US to share with Churches about our mission for the cause of the Gospel, in Nicaragua, but didn't have appropriate clothing so as to be culturally attuned.

I needed suits and Liz needed clothes with zips, buttons, bells and whistles. Our kids needed clothes that fitted, didn't have holes, nor stains, and that looked a cut above going-out-for-tacos.

We didn't have money to purchase "presentation" clothing and had planned to use some of our "gift" money for a start-up wardrobe (Sunday best).

In short Dom's brother (a chap getting married), his sister and mother, all donated clothes to us (2 suits and a pair of slacks for me and 2 suitcases of clothes for Elizabeth and the kids).

Liz and I drove to our first Church appointment in Dom's Mum's car (which she'd filled with petrol for us, and left the petrol (gas) card for us to use), dressed for success. I felt like a presidential candidate and Liz like a royal as we arrived at the home of our first Church's pastor.

Wendy came out of her lakefront home, which we'd driven for 3 hours to get to. I froze. Liz jumped out of the car confidently and sauntered over to Wendy, still in royal mode - clearly forgetting that we were actually only commoners.

I awkwardly got out, fumbling the car keys from the ignition and onto the floor, back into my hands and onto the ground, stretching my fingers out to pick them up and then stepping onto my hand with my very own foot. 

With guest speaker-like dignity I lifted my head quickly, trying to regain composure, and whilst attempting to stand swiftly bumped my head against the roof of the car.

I walked dizzily over to Wendy, feeling like I'd just competed in a Mexican luche match, and probably looking like I was guilty of drink-driving, and attempted to greet her with a kiss (not quite there, in any sense).

It was weird, but good. We were finally there. The end of beginning had arrived. Time for the show to go on. Excited to the max we entered Wendy's home.

This woman was sent to us from the God of Heaven. I had initially written to Wendy from out-of-the-blue. She was not a contact via a network. She wasn't expecting my e-mail. I had written to her in the hope that she would allow us to share our lives with her and her Church family.

I believed from the outset that Wendy, her Church, and Capital on the Edge would be mutually significant. I felt kindred. I felt at home. I was now in her home.   

We're in the USA for a couple of months sharing light (the message is Jesus, evangelism and discipleship), Nicaragua (trying to raise funds to continue our work) and our family (we're going here, there and everywhere).

If you are an Australian and would like to support us through the Australian Christian Churches - International Missions (Australian arm of the Assemblies of God), please visit our facebook page, Capital on the Edge, click on "files" at the top of the page, and then download "Field Worker Support Pledge form.pdf", fill it in and send it back to them.

If you are an American and would like to support us through the Assembly of God Church (for a tax receipt), write a cheque (check) in the name of "Zimmerman Community Church" and send your cheque (check) to:

                    Zimmerman Community Church

                    12567 5th Avenue

                    Zimmerman, MN, 55398

- On the memo line of your cheque (check) you should write: Capital on the Edge

- At the end of the tax year, Zimmerman Community Church will send you a tax-deductible receipt

- Please e-mail us (CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com) so that we can notify Zimmerman Community Church that we are expecting to receive a donation.

If you are a Church and would like to consider having us come and share about what we are doing in Nicaragua, please e-mail us: CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com

Thanks for reading Part 4 of Planes, Trains and Automobiles,

Jeddoxoxoxo    

POST by LIZ: Rosetta Groan

Spanish is not my forte!  In school the options were French or German, and I didn´t grow up with Dora the explorer.  You´d think living in Latin America for four years I would naturally be shoved into the guru category of the language – yet I am far from reaching that status.  Before we left Australia, I received the best present ever – the Latin American homeschool edition Rosetta Stone kit from my dear friend, Donna. 

The gift was marvelous!  It moved me from “I know nothing” to feeling comfortable with transactional conversations.   

In January 2011, we were robbed – the thieves pretty much gutted the place; taking electronic items all the way down to basic products such as hair gel and toothpaste!  And yes, my beloved homeschool edition Español Latin American Level 1 Rosetta Stone, was taken in that fleet. 

We work with street kids in Nicaragua, so my Spanish has improved – yet sadly it is now at “intermediate gutter level” due to the type of Spanish my unaware maestros use, in our beloved barrio.

So, during our trip to the USA, we decided to seize the moment and purchase Rosetta Stone.  We looked at the prices and almost had a heart attack.  My coupon-money-saving queen of a friend, Jen, suggested we check out Craig´s list. 

Low and behold, there was a bargain; Rosetta Stone Latin America Levels 1-5 NEVER BEEN OPENED for a third of the price. 

Jed´s fingers did the typing and before I could sit down to enjoy my deluxe block of Cadburys Chocolate, which my darling friend Mugs had bought me, we were out the door, in the car and on our way to meet this mysterious seller.

As we zoomed along the leafy streets of Fairfax, Virginia, Mugs´ words began to echo in my ears; “I don´t know about this Craig´s List… I´ve had friends experience success through this selling medium, but… let´s just say, anyone can seran-wrap a box…” 

Now let´s detour for a second for a getting-to-know Liz opportunity: When I shop, I always embarrass my husband.  Not only will I haggle on prices but I will also inspect the item as if I were a detective... I check and test the seams in clothes, I examine electrical cords ensuring everything is in working order, I even have new light bulbs checked before I purchase them. I think I inherited this skill from my father, who is an engineer. 

So, naturally, skeptical me went on a mission to convince “A-stranger-is-a-friend-you-haven´t-met-yet” Jed to risk losing this friend for the sake of not being scammed.

The meeting place: Starbucks. Time agreed: 10am  

To our surprise, we arrived on-time (those of you who know us, know what an achievement being on-time actually is).  The seller rang to say he was running a little late but would arrive shortly.

Naturally, I took full advantage of this situation and walked off to check out the nearby shops; knowing full well Jed couldn´t move from his position to control my purchases!

Jed´s head poked through the door of the shop, “Liz, he´s here and I need you to… ya know, do your thing...” I finished up my browsing and headed back to the "bucks."

A twenty-something, fairly good looking, southern-European chap was sitting at the coffee table with a yellow Rosetta Stone box in front of him.   

We sat down.    

The man passed the plastic wrapped box to Jed, who turned it around and around in his hands.

“So can we check it out?” Jed boldly asked then passed it to me.

“Well, it´s never been opened…”  The brown-eyed seller started to say before I interjected stating our assurance of purchasing it and providing a list of reasons why it was important we just quickly check the contents.

I heard the beginning of his “okay,” and pierced the plastic wrap with my key.  As I opened up the treasure, Jed sought friendship – starting up his “getting to know you” questionnaire.

I viewed the contents.  Everything in the box looked intact, though I noticed a slight rip in the sleeve which held the five discs.  The Spanish stick-on-keyboard guide was missing two characters. 

“Okay,” I thought to myself, “so, it´s been opened and he´s just trying to get a few extra $$ by presenting it this way,” But I still wanted him to know that I knew that it was not a virgin box, “hmm that´s strange isn´t it!” I said as I showed him the evidence.  Honestly though, at a third of the price, I really didn´t care.  I just wanted the fountain of language knowledge this material was certain to provide.

He looked a bit puzzled and explained that it was an unwanted gift from his Aunt. He wondered if she used it before she gave it to him. He´d held onto the kit for a while with every intention of using it, but he needed to buy books for university so decided to sell it for some extra money.

I had decided to bring my laptop with the hope we could just check the program and see if it worked properly. I motioned my head to Jed suggesting that he load up his laptop. 

Jed loaded up the machine. “Um, do you mind if we just check that it works?” Jed asked, as I was inserting the disk in the drive. “It´s just, ya know, Craig´s list and yep, we sort of wanna make sure and all,” He continued as the disk whirled into action.

“Sure,” he replied politely.

Jed pressed the start button, whilst simultaneously learning that the chap was a student at a nearby university who liked action films, but hadn´t yet seen the newly released batman movie.

As I rifled through the box looking for quick set up information, I caught the man checking his watch.  The smile had an “oops how embarrassing” look to it. 

“I bet he is thinking, ´Who are these people? Can´t they just hurry up and give me the money so I can continue living my life.´” I thought to myself. But regardless of what he thought, he remained relaxed and patient.

I shifted that awkward feeling I had, moving aside the knowledge that we were burning up his precious time with my pedantic actions.

The quick start showed the kit required an activation code. I searched for this code; in the booklet, on the box, inside the sleeve jacket, even the headset.  By now, I was feeling like I really knew the box, yet no activation code could be found.

Jed commented on something that the disk displayed, I looked and said, “No, it´s okay, it´ll work fine”.  “So, it looks like it´s all working then.” Jed chirped.

The patient chap took this as his cue.  He started to stand up. 

I interrupted his standing position.  “Okay, but we still need to find the activation code.  Without that we won´t be able to use all the lessons.”

We commenced the search like a SWAT team searching for drugs as we pulled the whole box and its contents apart, the selling bloke even started to search – but the code was nowhere to be found.

Jed called Rosetta Stone´s help desk.  He explained our situation.  He looked at the headset then said “No,” He passed the phone to the seller.  There were lots of “uh-huhs” and shifting of materials. The conversation was terminated and the guy handed the phone back to Jed. 

“Looks like it´s a fake,” he muttered.  “Mmm” replied Jed.

And with that we picked up our bags and left him standing with his opened “never-been-opened box” fake Rosetta Stone.

We laughed as we drove away, only relieved that we hadn't thrown our money away and not feeling the slightest of remorse for the inconvenience we'd just endured. It goes to show, there are people all over God's green Earth, who seek to benefit themselves at the detriment of others. Sad for them they don't live for more, as it is most certainly better to give than receive. 

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 3

Just to forewarn friends reading from our home Church in Australia and the Church we called home  during our exchange student days in the USA, this BLOG is primarily focused on some of the uglier parts of our Church experiences. I am sharing these stories as I saw them unfold. I am not trying to condemn anyone. It's an honest, reflective blog about Church and I have written them with the intention that we learn from our experiences and seek God in all things. Please do not read if you know you'll be offended. I also ask that you don't write to me with the intention of arguing. I won't respond, there's just too much to be done and "life is but a breath..."   

Returning to Rochester, New York, is always tremendously rewarding for us because we have so many friends and family members there . However, times have changed and it's become bitter-sweet treat.

The Church we used to be a part of has suffered a horrendous split and the casualties on either side are many, and the wounds have cut deep - to the heart and through the core...

During our 2001 exchange in New York we dived into a spirit filled Church and LOVED it. We found it difficult to return home to Australia, as many of our friends had left our Church, which at the time was known as Erindale Christian Centre.   (50% of the congregation had moved on, something not unusual for transient capital cities like Canberra - we were eyebrow-raised surprised, but not fall-over-and-accidently-crash-head-against-alter surprised).

We decided to complete a second exchange in New York and in 2003 returned to Rochester. Our reasoning for returning to the same town, university and Church was that we'd received such excellent Bible teaching and really felt part of a community - which, as Christians, is so important (if your Church doesn't offer this, send me your pastor's contact details and I'll rouse on him/her!).

Upon arrival we were completely shocked by what we found. To our eyes, nothing had changed. Nobody added and nobody subtracted. At the time it felt like Heaven, as we were able to transition with ease into exactly the same life we'd left behind a year and a half before - everyone knew us and old New York friendships were restored.

What was disappointing to me at the time, was that people's roles within the Church were the same. Whilst there was obviously life there was also stagnancy. People appeared to be Spiritually fat, but complacent and not growing or being strectched, in terms of their role in the Church. It didn't really bother me personally, our reasons for returning were selfish. We wanted to be fed in the Lord and BOY were we able to eat.

However, whilst we were soaking in the things of God, little did we know that a storm was most certainly brewing...

When we left Rochester, we returned back to Erindale Christian Centre in Australia. It was again a difficult move for us. The Church back in Oz was led by a chap who, at the time, and in my eyes, lacked the ability to forgive those in his congregation who had offended him.

Our pastor was blessed with stacks of admirable character traits. At the fore was his humour - he was a funny ol' fellow who could turn any somber occasion into frivolous hilarity, taking moment after moment in his stride and bringing Jesus-joy to the ho-hum-drum of our bureaucratic, suburban, pc (taken either way - computers (we had so many "dot-commer" types in our Church - snore) or politically correct), Canberra congregation.

Yet still, even though he was clearly anointed by God, instead of extending himself in Christian maturity and letting offences go-by-the-way (which I believe is the heart of God - love and subsequently forgiveness...), he would allow unforgiveness to settle in his heart and this would of course lead to bitterness. Consequently he'd lash out at people, even from the pulpit, forcing droves of people from our Church family.

In time, Elizabeth and I suffered through this same experience. Nevertheless, Lizzie is British and INCREDIBLY stubborn (yes I know, extend, maturity, love, forgiveness, etc. Why do you think I know the drill so well?) and so the more thunderous the storm, the more anchored we became - we had a MASSIVE bootcamp in the art of forgiveness (though we're still being molded in this way, so don't say nothin or I'll smash ya! ha ha).

Back in our New York Church, the lead pastor stepped down from his position to serve the international Church body with concerted effort and a greater portion of his time. Yet at the same time his marriage deteriorated and then fell to pieces (there's been a bit of who-har over that one, but it's none of my business and in my opinion marriages rarely breakdown because of just one party - it takes two to tango), for one reason or another, and the Church leadership decided it was not right to continue sending out this man whose family life was in disarray.

The broken pastor, marriage in tatters, made the painful decision to leave the Church and continue to serve the Lord via another avenue (he lived close to where we ended up in Mexico). With time, nearly all of the original Church's congregation left as well.

Liz and I, back in Australia, were deeply upset with the reports communicated to us. Heart breaking? You have no idea. It's another example to me of how Satan is at work on this Earth, toying with the well-to-do Church-of-the-West. It makes me angry, REALLY mad... Why? We have all we need to unite and attack, but we're so easily blinded by how clever/Godly/righteous/talented/hardworking/knowledgeable/_______________ we are.

Instead of surging into darkness armed with the truth and the power of God's Spirit, we flail around stabbing each other and when held to account at the Gates of Glory our response: "He started it!" God's response? "No, I finished it!"

Liz and I have mixed emotions about what has happened to our "American Church family." We've spoken to many of the Church members who have left since the split and to several of those who have stayed-on after.

They all have a different story to tell and details of their "journey" vary. Some clearly have been offended and have lived in that place for quite some time. Others are grieving over the friendships lost along the way.  For some it was the excuse they needed to get out and get on with their lives. Loyalties abound. Some won't question party-room-politics. Others just sit in the corner and cry. It's awful.

Whatever they had to say, the common thread which pulled at my heart and made me feel low was the sense of "sweep it under the carpet" and "find the silver lining" - "God is a God who restores." Well Amen to that! But what lengths did Jesus Christ go to in order to re-establish relationships? For HEAVENS SAKE, he died on a cross so that we would NOT be separated from the blessing of fellowship and eternal love.

When we visit Rochester now, it is nearly impossible to visit all of our friends. They  span more than a dozen Churches and live in many towns around and about. Our prayer is that our friends who do not speak to our other friends will seek HIS kingdom first, and in that place realise the love he has for each of us, and the love he has for our enemies through us.

Rochester had previously been our home for two years, and so on our first day day in the area there was no time to waste on "what should we see" and "where should we visit." Oh no, the next morning (3pm), armed with nothing but coffee and love, we sat down and pow-wowed for several hours with our ol' friends the Wills.

It's been a long road for their family, as they endured the struggle and division in our American Church for many years. However, they are Christian people who seek the Kingdom of God and to overcome, hence they are running, no, BULLETING along to the finish line that God has given them - they're a REAL encouragement to Lizzie and I.

Over the next couple of days we chatted with our Rah-cha-cha crew about everything under the sun, from politics, to Church stuff (they have now been at a large charismatic Church for many years, the Father's House, which truly seems to be an Oasis for many Christians in Western New York), to who's doing what, where and when. It was an invaluable time of fellowship with some of our favourites (we're honorary Latinos now, we're allowed to have favourites), the Wills and the Seaburgs (who abandoned camp for a couple of hours, just to spend time with us - honoured? Absolutely!).

An extra special treat for the Brien unit was to have Townsend family with us. Liz's brother came to visit us when we were on exchange in 2001. He was lucky enough to pick up a gorgeous Rochester babe, Jaime. He wasted little time in leaving Elizabeth's homemade breakfasts, sacrificing them so as to spend more time with his novia.

Lukey is now married to Jaime, and together they live in Rochester, New York, with their cute little kids Tadhg and Alegra.

Margie, Liz's sister, had been visiting us in Nicaragua before our grand trip to America. We all flew out together from Managua, bound for New York, on the very same day on the 2nd of July.

Liz and her siblings looked like a Tommy Hilfiger magazine advertisement as they lay strewn upon the lawn for countless hours. They  chatted and laughed, soaking in every moment of family, reminiscent of the past, enjoying the present and wondering about the future.

But enough play. We're visiting the US to share with American Churches about our vision for Nicaraguan youth, our vision is hope, it's Jesus. And pumped up with the excitement of our dream, we woke up and hit the road with Beth, a key person in our past, present and future.

She's a woman of God whom we respect as a leader in our life. Both her and John have always given so selflessly to us: - taking us in, feeding us, silently enduring our toddler aged kids rip wall paper from their walls, etc. They're American family to us - we really couldn't ask for more.

And so it was 4-something in the morning. Yikes, we're in America and people drive FAST! I tried to "tutt" and "aaah" in all the right places, but in the wee hours of the morn I found it difficult, given the coffee balancing act I was charged with and the velocity of our freeway bend-rounding (and with face pressed up against car window, no less).

We arrived safely at Rochester International Airport. American Airlines had done-us-over again. We had been allowed 2 pieces of baggage each when travelling in to the US, but were now being forced to pay for EVERY piece of checked baggage and the charge? Travelling domestically - NOT HAPPY JANET!

It's a cost saving technique for airlines in the US. They save a huge amount in fuel and personnel costs, with passengers now being sold large bags that "JUST" fit into the airlines' strict (HA!) carry-on baggage policy (don't even get me started on airport security!).

The flights were beautiful, up-down-up-down, with coffee and bagels in Chicago - yummo. We were excited, because this truly was the beginning for us, in terms of our spreading the Good News. And where better to start than Minnesota, the land of ONE THOUSAND Lakes...

We're in the USA for a couple of months sharing light (the message is Jesus, evangelism and discipleship), Nicaragua (trying to raise funds to continue our work) and our family (we're going here, there and everywhere).

If you are an Australian and would like to support us through the Australian Christian Churches - International Missions (Australian arm of the Assemblies of God), please visit our facebook page, Capital on the Edge, click on "files" at the top of the page, and then download "Field Worker Support Pledge form.pdf", fill it in and send it back to them.

If you are an American and would like to support us through the Assembly of God Church (for a tax receipt), write a cheque (check) in the name of "Zimmerman Community Church" and send your cheque (check) to:

                    Zimmerman Community Church

                    12567 5th Avenue

                    Zimmerman, MN, 55398

- On the memo line of your cheque (check) you should write: Capital on the Edge

- At the end of the tax year, Zimmerman Community Church will send you a tax-deductible receipt

- Please e-mail us (CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com) so that we can notify Zimmerman Community Church that we are expecting to receive a donation.

If you are a Church and would like to consider having us come and share about what we are doing in Nicaragua, please check out our Calender for 2013, go to "Capital on the Edge" in facebook, click on files and then CLICK on 2013 Weekly Calendar (incomplete).doc and e-mail us: CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com

Thanks for reading Part 3 of Planes, Trains and Automobiles,

Jeddoxoxoxo    

PS.. Next blog will take us out of the depths-of-despair and into sharing the "message" with our US Churches

POST by SEZNI: A Wii bit of fun

Four weeks ago I had a gift given to me. I closed my eyes, and this lady called Anna put a gift in my hands.  I opened the gift present and I opened my eyes and I saw, I saw, I saw… A WII.  I had 4 games, I had wiifit, mariokart, wiigames and I also had wiisports. 

On wiifit you can do exercise, on Mario kart you can do a big race, on wii games you hit scarecrows on cows and you can do pool tables and all those things. On wiisports you can do boxing, golf, tennis with a partner and you can do bowling and you can do skiing.

I was happy, super glad.  I bought two more games with money I had saved by selling avocados and having a tuck shop.  These games are called Counterforce, which is a Robert game and last but not least, Super Smash Brawl, where you can do fighting and adventures.

In New York, I went to China town  to look for some Heelys, they are shoes that have wheels on the back of your shoes. When we bought the Heelys I put them on and I heeled around and they were fun.  My brother Rafi bought Heelys too he had two wheels on the back of his shoes.

Then we went out for pizza and we ate a lot of pizza. On Friday I went out for shopping. I bought a fizzy drink and I just drank it all. 

I am addicted to soda.  I always grab one and I buy it and I gulp it down to the ground. I then heel around to get food.

I just love heeling around I do spins and I go fast sometimes, I stop into the ground.  

A few months ago, I gave the avocado business to Francesca because she wants to go to Canada next Summer. 

POST by RAFAEL: Rupe-tomato

One day my family and I were going to a person´s house named Luke. We went in the house just to say hello and get my sisters.

Then we went to another house to get pizza. We went in the house. There was a dog named Bow, he was playful and cute.  Then we ate some cheese pizza, it was delicious. We watched gymnastics on TV.

That was the best day of my life. 

The End.

POST by SEZNI: Wave & Ride

One day  my  friend,  Elias,who is black and big, took me to the wave pool. In five minutes there were some waves in the pool. The waves were fun and they  stop in five minutes then everyone had to get out.

Elias and I were going on a roller coaster. It was old and brown and only eight  people could go on and it was shaky. When it was done I was shaky. I wish I can do it again, but I didn´t want to.

When we were tired of walking we were going to waterslide. Elias and I were so excited when we were gonna do a better one. We went on the twist and bump.  

At five we went home.  That was a fun day.

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 2

The people in Florida dress well - it's the Latino influence. I want to say that Florida is the most multicultural state in the USA, but I know that's not true. However, I do think Florida is probably the most densely populated state, in terms of  Latino folk, in North America. There's a saying in Nicaragua, "the greatest thing about Florida is it's so close to the US!"

We made our connection and took another American Airlines flight to Chicago. Travel between Managua (Nicaragua) and Rochester (New York) now takes an entire day and it doesn't matter which airline you take. Goodbye mindless chatter and hello book!

More friendly cabin crew greeted us and yet again, every seat on the aircraft was full - something we've learned is now the norm in the States - sad for the airline staff who now wait for days in order to receive their "free" seat  when travelling recreationally.

But still, even though you aren't served a meal and the cabin crew work a hundred hours a week and look like they just went to bed, the travel time between destinations is still the same.  Before we knew it we were touching down in the Windy City, Chicago.

Chicago is a known entity to our family. We've come and gone from O'Hare a squillion times. 

As a child it seemed to me the most modern airport on Earth. Not anymore. Whilst it truly is a model of efficiency, it's no longer tremendously effective.

The gate lounges are now tiny in comparison to those of Dallas, Atlanta, Denver, etc. There aren't any travelators where you need them and so the airport feels just a little too big, because you have to actually walk between the different concourses of the terminal (and that would be easy if it were solomente yo, pero I have 4 kids and due to baggage restrictions we basically have to carry the kitchen sink with us in order to keep travelling costs down to a minimum), where in actual fact it's just a little too small - the airport needs to be bigger, much, MUCH bigger.

The food, diverse, though problematic for the cholesterol count, is available in abundance. 

Another surprising element in Chicago was the people. In my opinion, Americans are not JUST Americans - there's more to it - they're so regionalised, deeply influenced by the area of the US that they come from. It's fairly easy to pick out a Californian when compared with a Bostonian, or a gal from  Mississippi as opposed to a lad from Oregon.

From fun, flashy, flamboyant, Floridians to colorless, casually clothed, chubby, Chicagoans. The atmosphere in Miami had included an element of hilarity, but not in Chicago - it was business, prompt and somber. 

"Excuse me ma'am", I had wanted to say, "could you please lower your attitude so myself and my family can simply step over it - we need to board our aircraft". But alas, we had to cross into 'oncoming traffick', nearly losing Raf in the process, so that this adorably charming, overly blinged woman could continue to bicker with an ever-cowering airport worker.

We made our way through the masses of people and boarded our final flight for the day, a small Embraer aircraft bound for Buffalo, near Niagara Falls in New York.

Now many people dislike the smaller aircraft, but as a pilot once told me "if the power goes out in a smaller aircraft, there's more time to glide safely to a landing strip than if you're flying in a larger aircraft - which just plummets out of the sky." I strapped myself in and began to drift into snooze (flight mode).

New York was in a heat wave. As we walked up the aerobridge, every step towards the terminal's air-conditioning was like a step towards Heaven. We had been flying all day and were savagely beaten. It was midnight and we were ready for bed. However, this was our first day in the United States and we anticipated great things - we marched towards the exit and straight into the loving arms of Shane Seaburg, our American "best friend."

It was terrific to be hanging with one of our very own. In the car we laughed about times gone by - so many funny stories. Shane and Jen had been there through the thick of our most embarrassing "exchange student" memories.

Elizabeth and I have both completed exchanges in New York. Interesting moments include (but are not limited to) me intruding in the Church's mother's room, which as I learnt in the US, really is only for mothers... The abandonment of babes in cars, parks and empty apartments... Elizabeth's famously delicious brunch menu, including fried onions, mushrooms, runny scrambled eggs, rye toast, bitter coffee and sharp grapefruit juice - no OJ, eggs or sausages here!!! Oh the laughter, it was hard not to cry.

We arrived at Niagara Falls at close to 1am. The night air was thick and warm. Shane circled around the abandoned car parks, searching, lurking, desirous of only the best and safest car park and as close to the Rainbow Bridge as possible.

Niagara Falls is an interesting place. The American side I liken to inner-city Buffalo, whilst the Canadian side is more-or-less Las Vegas.

Yet on this occasion we wondered whether Canada was closed for the night, even though the entrance belonged to a "major city." It began to feel like we were searching for the secret land out of fairytale "the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe"  when we couldn't find the access point to the bridge.

But alas, Canada does exist, and so does the entrance to get there. In fact, Canada was beckoning us over - yes, the signage was dimly lit, and the path leading us on was tucked away around the side, and we had to traverse some of America's dodgiest sidewalks to get there - but it does exist, though hoofing it from the US side is clearly not encouraged.

We circled through the large revolving metal gate, which separated "freedom" and the "Queen". We took a few steps in and I became rather nervous. (We travelled via foot because it costs 50 cents each. The tariff for cars is $40 roundtrip and you can't even see the Falls - which, might I add, are more beautiful at night because they're illuminated with expensive lights)

"Is this a smidge suspicious?" I wondered in a paranoid manner. "Here I am, it's 1am, and I'm walking to Canada? I'm on foot and am travelling via one of the World's Seven Wonders - that's not normal, perhaps a bit doubtful? I'm dropping off my 14 year old daughter - who does that? It's like I'm trafficking CHILDREN!!! What will the immigration officials ask me? Is what I'm doing legal?"

I continued to build upon my fears until I felt a surge in my body which pushed downwards and HARD. "YIKES - 62 metres and nothing below but rocks!" I'm not too flash with great heights. My initial migratory terror was replaced by another, more primal fear.

Shane, Lizzy, Franny, Renzy, Sez and Raf consumed contentedly every second of Niagara glory. I could hear them chatting excitedly as they viewed the sights through the permanently placed, quarter-fed binoculars.

I too delighted in the moment as I ran FULL-PELT from a third of the way over the bridge to the other side. "Bridges that tall are just not safe!" I looked down as I ran and saw between the great big cement slabs the water flowing peacefully beneath.

I ran and I ran and then I nearly died - it had been more exercise than I had exerted in the last 20 years of my life (gym time included), but I reached the other side and my stomping and accidental crash into the immigration office glass door nearly caused the awaiting officer to draw her weapon and shoot me.

She appeared startled and cranky. I decided to wait for the rest of the family before entering the office for processing. I stood to the side, Bond style. I was sure that her eyes hadn't yet focussed on my great hulking form, but then my brain caught up with me. We were the only ones on the bridge! She would know it was me regardless. But I had a solution, I'd blame Sez! (Naughty boys...)

The happy tourists arrived after many long minutes. My toe-tapping impatience made my discomfort more obvious. When I had initially arrived at the immigration office I had forgotten all our woes and could have taken on the world. However, I had suffered many contemplative moments since, with only the distant roar of the falls in the background, slowly pushing me towards THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY - inconceivable.

I allowed everybody else to walk into "Canada" first. The immigration officer was ready and waiting. She had never smiled before. Her eyes narrowed as she concertedly attempted to determine who had rudely awoken her from the peace of slumber. She was assessing us psychologically by what we were wearing and how we were speaking.

How we were speaking? I hadn't even formulated a plan for us all to stick to! What would Liz say when examined? Even worse, what would Franny  blurt out when quizzed? All these years we'd irresponsibly taught her to tell the truth! Would she say that she was to be "working" in Canada for the summer? That would be an immediate entry "denied" and possibly detrimental to our careers as missionaries in a third world context! I slowly unraveled and began to "lose it."

I cooly approached the officer and took control of the situation. "Hello, and how are you this delightful, summer's nigh?" I asked. "Fine, passports please." Her response was short and sweet. I began to fumble and bumble, she was trickier than I had anticipated! I started to feel like Ned Flanders from the Simpsons, "Okaley Dokely," I replied.

I handed over the passports. "What brings you to Canada?" Her questioning irritated me. I felt a flushing from my soul - fear and nervousness was being replaced by irritability and condescension - I mean really, did this woman not realise who she was working for? She was virtually rent-a-cop for America's 51st state!

It was late, I'd been flying all day, and I wasn't even "going to Canada." I looked her dead in the eye as I answered, "Well, I'm going to go straight through those doors, drop my fourteen year old daughter off on the curb and walk straight back over to the good ol' US of A."

I could hear Liz's gasping behind me. We love Canada, they're our sister country in the Commonwealth. Some of our best friends are Canadian. If asked at that moment about my sanity, Liz would've had me committed. No, I hadn't handled that well, but was still streets ahead of Sez's "butthead" responses in Miami.

The officer tightened her lips "Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight... Francesca, why are you going to Canada?" Franny stepped forward, "for summer camp," she said timidly. "Brilliant!", I thought to myself - the girl is smart, but not cocky, honest, but not divulging, thoroughly sociable whilst NOT being too dramatic - after all, you know how I loathe drama.   The immigration official quizzed the rest of our family and finally let us go through.

Paul, my amigo from Sydney days when I was just a tot, was waiting for us with his new squeeze, Ms. Fox. They were to whisk Franny off to summer camp at a ranch in Ontario. Paul is now a farrier (blacksmith) and Ms. Fox a horse whisperer.

It was great to hang out with an Aussie, in the middle of the night, in a foreign country, whilst handing over our eldest daughter. But alas, we had many hours of driving to do and there was not a second to waste.

After awkward conversations where I hinted on marriage for the 2 of them, we gave Franny lots of hugs and bid her farewell. Pauly gave me an especially gripping handshake and we trotted (I bolted) back over the Rainbow Bridge to America - third immigration interrogation in 24 hours.

The US immigration officers were waiting for me. Was there to be no end? And these were not the Canadian, equal opportunity, blonde haired, female types of officers... These were the served in Iraq, fake tan, crew cut,  and have been lifting weights on my cigarette breaks, should be a model on the front cover of "Men's Health", type of officers.

There were four of them. A lump formed in my throat. I meandered on over to the officer who was smiling at me (reverse, reverse, reverse psychology - I was on to this fella). My family submissively followed -  a little too Islamicly for my liking. I threw my arms around them and smiled in a "pro-west" kind of way.

"How are you today?" the chap asked. There was a long pause - I looked at Liz. My eyes pleaded with her, "WHAT DO I SAY?" I turned back to the smiling officer.

Shane, our American friend, who now knew better, stopped in with another of the gents and was being processed rather rapidly.

Seconds more glided by and Shane started towards the exit. My heart was in my throat, I was in a haze. Every action seemed overpowering - I was merely a visitor in my own body, euphorically lacking any kind of control.

I broke the silence, "We're good thank you." He continued to smile at me. He had already finished scanning the passports and entering in details. The passports were stacked in front of me ready for collection.

I noticed that all of the other officers were watching us, with smiles on their faces. "They're going to take us all out!",  I thought  to myself. We're as good as DEAD! I was waiting for a corridor I had seen many times before - they'd try to break the children with all angles of questioning.

"How has your trip been so far?" the officer respectfully asked. "Ooooooooooh, he's good - He's trying to trick me!" I knew that he was on to me, but didn't know in what way or for why.

"Um, yup, we've had a long day and now we're heading on to Rochester, before travelling to Minnesota, and then California, and then back to Rochester, and then New York City, and then DC, blah, blah, blah..." Liz tapped me on the shoulder, "He's not even listening... He doesn't even care... Let's go home, Jeddy..." I picked up our passports, thanked the dude for his time and marched out of interrogation into the land of the free.

We arrived in Rochester at 4am. Beth had been waiting up all night for our arrival. She was ready to talk and Liz's response was friendly, yet final, "Goodnight, I'm going to bed." And that epitomised our sentiment - here for many GREAT conversations, we have so much to say - however, it is timing, patience and being concise that is going to lead us to success.

We're in the USA for a couple of months sharing light (the message is Jesus, evangelism and discipleship), Nicaragua (trying to raise funds to continue our work) and our family (we're going here, there and everywhere).

If you are an Australian and would like to support us through the Australian Christian Churches - International Missions (Australian arm of the Assemblies of God), please visit our facebook page, Capital on the Edge, click on "files" at the top of the page, and then download "Field Worker Support Pledge form.pdf", fill it in and send it back to them.

If you are an American and would like to support us through the Assembly of God Church (for a tax receipt), write a cheque (check) in the name of "Zimmerman Community Church" and send your cheque (check) to:

                    Zimmerman Community Church

                    12567 5th Avenue

                    Zimmerman, MN, 55398

- On the memo line of your cheque (check) you should write: Capital on the Edge

- At the end of the tax year, Zimmerman Community Church will send you a tax-deductible receipt

- Please e-mail us (CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com) so that we can notify Zimmerman Community Church that we are expecting to receive a donation.

If you are a Church and would like to consider having us come and share about what we are doing in Nicaragua, please check out our Calender for 2013, go to "Capital on the Edge" in facebook, click on files and then CLICK on 2013 Weekly Calendar (incomplete).doc and e-mail us: CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com

Thanks for reading Part 2 of Planes, Trains and Automobiles,

Jeddoxoxoxo    

PS.. Sorry for sooooo many boring details - airlines have been my passion, I have SO much to say... Also, the people we're talking about, the Churches we're visiting, we're extremely fond of and want to express everything in detail. If you're bored, go play x-box or watch the Aussies in London or something equally as mind-numbing/frustrating...