Heading north for the winter

A blizzard had set in. A “Nor-easter” was on its way. We headed straight for it. It has been years (about four and a half) since the boys had seen snow. Now, though, after driving for nine hours, over two through white out conditions edging Lake Erie, we have made it to New York state, up-state that is, for a little skiing. God has and continues to provide the snow.  At this point we are hoping we will actually make the last hour’s drive up to the mountain.  The boys are ready to provide the excitement as they are all amped up and geared up for this occasion.  Only now are they realizing that this is way beyond the building of snow forts and Frosty.  So, this week expect a few entries about the wonders of snowy New York and Holiday Valley.  If you think it couldn’t get any better than skiing right after a blizzard, then you need to hold on to your hats, because tonight we are staying in none other than Jamestown, New York.  Yes, you are correct, it is the one and only birthplace of none other than Lucille Ball.  Louise is out of her mind with excitement and will not let us get out of town to go skiing until she has made her rounds at the Lucy and Desi museum for the premium price of six dollars.  Do pray for us to stay out of the ER and for us to have a great time of refreshing enjoying God’s creative wonders.

 

Frosty and the boys

Eight years makes quite a difference.  Just think of the changes that have been made in our lives over the course of the last eight years.   Take my sons, for instance.  Almost eight years ago, on our first furlough, it snowed.  An attempt was made at Frosty construction.  It was a bold effort that lasted  almost fifteen minutes.  Then as the cold set it, dreams of the warmth of  Togo began to overcome their sense of excitement and drove them back to the warmer climes of the great indoors.  Today, as they were finishing up their Bible study, things got a little crazy.  God called the study early on account of snow.  Would he be slighted by their desire to romp in the beauty of the first snow?  Of course not.  They threw on the clothes and out they went.  Snow angels were created.  This was  a first.  They are used to making sand angels on the shores of the Atlantic in Africa.  This, though, was the real deal and didn’t get up in your swimsuit and make you itch like the sandy versions.  Then, they knew that Frosty must be dealt with in order to finally get some closure from their first failed attempt.  Here you see Frosty with his Texas Rangers hat.  Their season, regrettably, fared about as well as he will when it hits 50 on Saturday.  After this they went about constructing fortifications for the great snow ball war.  The impressive thing is that they did all of this with only two inches of snow.  Just think how well they’ll do with a foot.  There are many musings available from this such as second chances; appreciating and taking advantage of the here and now; and doing a lot with very little.  The one, though, that creates the deepest pondering for myself is the wondrous extremes of their lives as missionaries from Africa and the desire God has to bless them, filling any and all possible voids.

 

Road Warriors

For a month, since October 31st until November the 28th, we were on the road. We drove over 3,400 miles, had many adventures, learned how to eat out for less than $20, cried when we paid $3.09 per gallon (for 32 gallons), and rejoiced when we pulled into the driveway in Morrisville, Virginia.  What a wonderful trip it was, and we are so glad it is over.  We thought that this furlough might be a tough one, but what we didn’t realize is that this furlough (now to be known as the furlong, which is the opposite of furshort) was actually going to be comprised of several furloughs along the way.  No wonder many mission organizations no longer call them furloughs anyway.  That moniker has been replaced with home assignment for understandable reasons.  Yet, here they are, the road warriors.  Just look at these go with the flow fellow travelers all sacked out on the road and content.  They have now been away from Togo for seven months.  They have missed their dog, their friends, their Africa, but not the four hour church services on hard benches.  As well, we haven’t been anywhere long enough to sink any roots.  Yet, they know contentment.  Whether it’s Togo, Virginia, Alabama, Arkansas, or even (should I say it …) Texas (aarrgghh), they have learned to be content.  They have had to be visitors in over fifteen different churches.  They have had to weather the social storms of trying to make friends wherever they go.  They have had to put more clothes on their bodies than any other time in almost six years.  Have they complained? No.  What an example my sons are to me, for not only have they been content, they have had a good time along the way.  Isn’t it fun when God touches your children in such a way that they live out the word right before your very eyes.  Philippians 4:11-13.

 

Ice’ing on the Skate

Yet another first for the Koonce boys.  Ice skating.  Hey, what can I say, for four boys from the equatorial jungles of Africa, they are naturals, as long as they wear enough clothes.  There were a few spills, but there were no tears and only one complaint of cold hands.  Special thanks to Uncle Sonnie, the family’s only hockey lover, for getting his nephews out on the ice.   The impressive thing is that they did it for four straight hours and really loved every minute of it.  I believe that one of the unique characteristics of our sons from living in Togo is a willingness to try new things, even though they may be difficult.  There is a youthful confidence about them, that even though it may be wrought with challenge, they are willing to give it a go.  What happens to us?  Where does that fear of failure come from?  Is the experience of life so brutal that we resolve ourselves to the status quo?  I believe that a legitimate aspect of our love for Christ draws us or maybe calls us into change.  Often we resist as the unknowns are dwelt upon, but Jesus calls us to take those steps forward of faith, into the unknown.  He is always faithful and he will bless us to overcome whatever obstacles we face.  As Romans 8:28 says, “All things work for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.”  There is the confidence we need to step out into the adventure of the unknown.  It will work out for the good whether it is the new skill of ice skating, the changing of your job, or the alteration of daily habits in pursuit of the holiness.

 

Vicksburg

Twelve years ago, we stood on a ridge overlooking the Yazoo River in Vicksburg, Mississippi and took a picture by this exact cannon of our then only son Tucker. This last Monday, it was not just one son, but four who stood on that ridge. This battlefield has always intrigued me with its various types of defense structures that still exist in the terrain and its tales of extraordinary courage. I was pleased to see it capture the imaginations of my sons as they envisioned the battle and thankful when they began to realize the tremendous costs paid by both sides. A particular story of courage deeply touched us all as it was told of one lone standard bearer for the North that charged the redoubt that held the Texas regiment. Even though all took aim, none of the shots struck their mark as this brave soul closed the gap down to just fifty yards. At that point the soldiers of Texas were so amazed at his courage that they instinctively lowered their guns and called for everyone to cease fire. Instead of being shot down, this man of great valor was received as a hero, being welcomed with open arms by the Texas regiment. What courage and faith it took to charge the hill. How overwhelming it is to be in the presence of such bravery. It effects us. It stirs our hearts. I can only look forward to the impact that such moments will have on our sons, that over the years they will not only hear stories of such bravery but they will see courageous faith exemplified before their very eyes in the lives of their African brothers and sisters in Christ. As well, I hope as a dad of four strong and brave young men, that I too can live such a life.

 

The Deer Camp

Annually, for more years than we can count, our extended family has gotten together near Monticello, Arkansas, to participate in the traditional deer hunt on the opening weekend of deer season.  It has become the additional November holiday that truly “kicks off” the holiday season.  Although some of the details of the weekend have changed, men cooking, women hunting; for the most part, it still maintained the charm and wonder of all the decades past.  It still included the hunting, shooting, hauling, cleaning, cooking, and eating of deer.  But, more importantly it included the family relationships, the stories of hunts past, the humor of events revisited, and the worship individually and collectively of our God who made it all possible.  Whereas I, personally, passed up several deer, Tucker at age 12 and Taylor at age 10 both got their first deer ever.  Tucker’s was the first of the weekend which caused me to gush with no small amount of pride.  Taylor’s was about five or so years before my first one, so I was impressed with that as well.  It was a weekend that I have missed from Africa.  It is one that is hard to find a replacement for.  Over the years I have found myself growing quite nostalgic as October ended and November began, knowing that my family was gathering for the hunt.  After having been able to take part in this year’s hunt, I realized that this gathering of family is rather unique and that it will be impossible to replace.  I realize that more than the deer camp itself, it is actually my family that I have missed so “deerly”.

 

Halfway to 80!

Well, it happened and I was surprised.  Bryan Ries conspired with my wife and shocked me with a birthday party while in Kara, Togo on our way to Pendjari, Benin.  It wasn’t my birthday yet and they tricked me by saying we were on our way to a devotional.  They’ll need to repent for that, surely.  That is a great idea, by the way, for throwing a surprise party, have it a few days early.  I guess up to a year in advance would work although that might be overkill and you might get in trouble for trying to do multiple celebrations at once.  It can appear as one who is rather lazy.  We went to sing a bit and the first song was Happy Birthday which I readily sang as all eyes trained and fixed on me.  I was a little slow only two thirds through the song did I realize that it was for me.  After the embarrassment of this it was only compounded by a slide show that Louise had made for me.  It was a job well done.  She could make anyone look classy and popular.  After watching it, though, the realization came to me that I have led a full life.  At forty, I’ve really lived, already.  It excites me to consider the next forty years.  What will they be like?  How will they be filled?  How can God bless me anymore than he already has?  It is something I am looking forward to and by God’s grace, it can only get better.  Thank you Louise for a wonderful birthday celebration and thank you Jesus for giving me life before and after forty.

 

Language

This is such an important daily focus of ours even after 9 plus years of being in Togo. We live in English at home and Eve outside our home. Occasionally we get stuck in the “but NO!” all French situation and our pride suffers greatly as we stumble and bumble along. When we got to Togo it was all consuming, language that is. For those of you who know me well, you know what I’m saying. The old eat it, sleep it, and breathe it. I forgot one very important thing, though. I did not even consider the reality that I wasn’t the only one who would need to speak the other languages. I did not even consider our kids. I thought, well, you know they’re brilliant, like Louise and I. They’ll pick it up through absorption. I didn’t consider the fact that for all these years they have sat through three hour long worship services not knowing a thing that was being said and singing songs that were rendered meaningless because they didn’t have a clue what they were singing. We taught them the basic greetings and salutations, and then wondered why they shied away and wanted to stay home most of the time. If an Eve or Watchi person did approach them their reaction was that of partial tolerance at best. I kept wondering what we were doing wrong. I wondered why our sons were missing out on the great blessings of knowing and loving these people we lived among. It all came down to language and my not recognizing that my family is here as a team. You know, the old “it’s all about me” problem. So, this last summer, while the boys thought they should be playing X-Box, they got to suffer through daily language class. It was taught by Rigobert who is a student in the University of Kara. I would love to say that they thanked me for it, you know “getting” to go to school all summer, but alas …. they did. They actually thanked me. That’s the kicker. They saw the need, too. I found out that they had longed to be able to communicate as well. Upon asking them what their favorite / most useful phrases have been, they answer (in Eve), “Dzo yi afeme (Leave, go home!)” or “De asi le nuti nye (Get your hands off of me!). It looks like we’ll have to work a little on the relationship aspects of it, but hey, praise God, they speak and they love it!

 

Looking like Christmas

The Harmattan winds and dust from the Sahara seem to be here to stay. This is our signal that the Christmas season has come. Ironic to me that such a phenomenon as this is now my annual manifestation for the holiday season in the place of the first frost, the falling leaves, or that white stuff that falls from the sky (which I wonder if it actually exists). Speaking of cold it was a ripping 75.2 degrees this morning when we awoke. In reaction to this we donned long pants, sweat shirts, and drank hot tea as we sat around and complained of the bitter chill. Making it even feel more like Christmas is the presence of Nana K and Papa K (Marty’s mom and dad - AKA Kelly and Anna Koonce). This presence of family gives the truest sense of fulfillment of prophetic indicators that the Christmas season is upon us. We’ve loaded all of the seasonal music on our I-pods, decorated the tree, and put up the lights. Truly, its beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I wish you could be here to experience it with us.

 

Sporting News

Well, we have returned to our domicile in Tabligbo after a great extended weekend of Thanksgiving (yeah, we’re a week late on that one) with our northern team in Kara, Togo. What a weekend it was. It was topped off by the annual event of Sports Camp for the kids. This year we couldn’t allow any recruiters to attend based on the fact that we don’t want any of our kids seduced away to the states by promises of free trips to McDonald’s, all you can eat pizza buffets, and seven figure incomes. It was a spectacular show of talent in the three sports showcased this year of baseball, soccer, and basketball. To my sons’ deep disappointment football was not on the roster this year because of budget cuts and time constraints. Seriously, it did give us dads and moms a chance to cheer our kids on in English; extol the virtues of sport in general to these young athletes; and make several life lesson parallels to following Christ (which they might actually remember until next year’s session). Our thanks to the Kabiye team for hosting us and all the parents who coached and encouraged as well as those fine athletes who participated heart, body, and soul. By the way, for those of you still debating silently about me calling myself an occasional golfer. I give in. You win. I realized this when a close friend commented that his explanation of my use of the adverb occasional was when I find the occasion to go. Secondly, my mother so graciously gave me a Christmas ornament this year that said, “I only golf on days that end in ‘y’.” Okay, I admit it, I golf semi-frequently.