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Hello all. Its been over two weeks now since I returned from Cairo, Egypt. I can't comprehend the swiftness of time. My life is like a breath held and before you know it you exhale in the arms of Jesus. I see it in my son Phoenix who turned one the 15th of November and my other son Elisha who will turn three on the 22nd of December. It honestly seems like a few weeks ago we were bringing Elisha home from the hospital on Christmas Eve. The best Christmas present my wife or I have ever received. To then see my other son who was born in the time since then starting to walk and try his tongue out with word-like sounds is just a mind blower. If I was to be honest with you I would have to admit that it saddens me to watch their birthdays pass like road signs on the Autobahn but like most sad things it is that sadness that draws me closer to God.
There was no shortage of things to be sad about in Egypt. Women walking the streets in cloth prisons called Burqua's. Men with the dark circles on their foreheads from constant prayer that belong to only the most devout Muslims. An elderly woman without the use of her legs pushing bottles of water across hot pavement in between the oblivious passers-by. Children in the city where the majority of our mission unfolded playing on and rummaging through the mountains of trash that could be seen throughout the city. And a culture straining to breath under the chest crushing weight of Islam and its oppressive laws. But among the people who could be the most justifiably sad is a kind of shared hope and uncanny brightness that shines in spite of and maybe in order to spite the darkness that surrounds them.
I remember walking from the main church who we were there to serve to another smaller church who we would also be assisting. It was at least two miles down dirt roads that wove between five or six story buildings festooned with laundry, buckets attached to ropes, and decorations from a festival which may or may not have been recent. Every bit of available real estate on the bottom floor of these buildings was occupied by vendors. These shops were filthy and emitted smells that were mostly unidentifiable but they were alive with activity. Looking back upon that walk now it is easier for me to see how, though unbelievably poor, this small city within the bigger city of Cairo has created for itself a functional albeit meager economy. But, at the time of my walk all I saw was poverty unlike any I had been exposed to before. And having seen the areas of intense poverty in Romania, and Russia, and Mexico, and parts of Israel before I thought I was prepared. I was not. Children no more than four years old running shoeless through puddles of animal urine and feces. Women whose bruised faces told of how Muslim men, spurred on by Islamic doctrine, commanded respect. Markets where animals were slaughtered in the same place where their meat was hung unprotected in the fly infested hot air. The sights and the smells and especially the children seemingly unaware hit me like a punch in the gut. I spent the duration of our trek in tears. It was only seeing the smiling faces of the small group of Christians waiting at the end of that depressing walk that dried my eyes and allowed a smile to return to my face. It was those people and all the other Egyptian believers I would meet during my stay that not only kept me going but caused my heart to grow in both tenderness and strength. I remember thinking at some point that first day that if I lived there I would be glad to see time rush by as fast as it does. That the joy of rushing towards Heaven would be the only way to get out of bed each morning. But I was so wrong. While those whose necks have the foot of Islam on them might long for an end those who rest in the arms of Christ do not. They spend each day loving and serving those around them with glad hearts and gratitude for what they do have. A friend of mine asked me yesterday what I brought back from my trip. I told him it wasn't what I brought back but what I left behind that was important. I can't slow down time and I can't do anything to stop stress and turmoil but what I can do is work on facing each day with a glad heart and gratitude for what I do have.

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Well, I'm back. I made it safely home last night. The jetlag is not fun and my brain has been replaced with hummus but all in all I am feeling well and so glad to be with my wife and boys. I really missed them. I have so many things to say about the trip and I will definitely get to that over the next couple of weeks but for now thank you for your prayers and your support.