What Did You Do On Summer Vacation?

For the past two weeks, our house has been much more quiet.

No urban hip-hop thumpa-thump has been heard from the Ipod speaker device in one bedroom. No "Mochi Ball" ice cream treats have disappeared from our freezer late at night. No one is hogging the desktop computer in the sunroom. No one is walking around the house singing random bits of the latest hits. Loudly.

Our oldest daughter Kelly has been on a Mission Trip. But not the typical stuff. Not building homes in Mexico, or playing with American Indian kids in New Mexico, or even working in a village in Africa some where. She might be saving that for later.

Kelly spent two weeks in.....wait for it......Albania. What tha....? Albania? Yes, the birthplace of Mother Theresa, for one.

Do you even know where Albania is? Check here for more details on Kelly's amazing trip.

New Pastor!

Is your church searching for a new pastor? You need look no further. I give you Kanon Tipton:

Olympics

So far, this is my favorite Olympic moment.

A come from behind win in the 4x100 race, after the challenging French team trash-talked the US.

Note to France: Do not speak ill of your competitors prior to competition. It is just bad form. Oh, and it just fires them up.

"Its Everywhere"

It has been 14 days since we got home, and as we have "re-entered" life here, I have not had much time to add to the blog. Plus, we have hours of Olympic coverage to sift through in what little spare time we have. I love the Olympics!

Last week, I had the chance to hear an hour long interview that was a part of The Leadership Summit, presented via satellite at Fuller Seminary. I am not big on this stuff, particularly when it has a sort of Willowcreek-ish approach, and so I only showed up for an hour, but it was well worth the visit.

I had the opportunity to hear Brad Anderson, (pictured above) CEO of Best Buy. While I have not personally found anything amazing about shopping at Best Buy, I was impressed with Brad's approach to doing business, his sense of humor, and his compassion for his employees. Brad is also a committed follower of Jesus, who understands that his primary role at work is not necessarily to be an evangelist. He is not just another tacky Christian person, he seems very genuine. What a refreshing approach.

During the hour-long interview Brad touched for just a moment on the situation of the church in Western Europe. After our two week vacation, I listened with interest. Brad had one comment that haunted me about the influence of this history of the Christian church throughout Europe. He said, "It's (the church) everywhere in their lives, they just can't see it", referring to both the physical monuments and the historic influence of the church in European culture. But now, in modern times, the average European does not even think about faith, or God.

Guess what? It's not so different here in the USA.

I thought about these things often in both London and Paris.

Here is a sample of who Brad is:

Above Greenland

I was last in this spot 26 years ago, in 1982.

That was the last time I flew west, home to America, after spending a number of weeks in Western and Eastern Europe. I was flying alone, single, and wondering where my life would lead me. Where I might be lead. More than 5,500 miles, from London to Los Angeles.

I remember the overriding feeling I had flying home, somewhere over southern Greenland, was of thankfulness. Thankful for an amazing journey. Thankful to be returning to a free country, after visiting with many people who, simply, were not free. Thankful for friends who supported me to go, both in prayer and financially.

Today, in almost the same place, moving in the same direction at close to the speed of sound, at the edge of the atmosphere, I am returning home with three amazing women; my wife of almost 20 years, and our two daughters, now 14 and 17. And those people I met who were not free, are free now. I would never have imagined. I am still overwhelmed with thanksgiving.

I would meet my wife four years after that last trip; my best friend forever. We would marry one year later. Less than three years later our lives would be forever changed by the slightly early arrival of Kelly. After the sadness of a miscarried child, three more years later, our home would be filled with even more noise, joy, tears, and laughter by the arrival of Heather.

All those years ago, flying so far above the planet, I could never have imagined the course my life would take; the challenges of marriage, and the constant responsibilities of parenting. Or the feeling of holding your feverish baby daughter in your arms in the hospital admitting room, wondering what would become of a 104 degree temperature and a serious infection. I had not a clue of what it mean to stand, and sit, and wonder, and wait at the bedside of dying parents. Or the feeling of near impossibility at the thought of raising teenagers. Of how to guide these young ladies into becoming not just responsible members of society, but women who might possess deep character, conviction, and a faith that is real and honest. More than two decades ago, I had no idea what this ride would be like.

Back then, I had no idea that the real meaningful work of life occurs not in momentous, magical moments of great moral victory or triumph. Hollywood often romantically teaches us that, but they have it completely wrong. What I learned is that often, great things occur at the speed of continental drift. No one would make a movie of that. Barely measurable. Almost imperceptible. Persistence is, in the end, something that matters a great deal.

And so, this next Monday, I will get up again. I will try my best to love my wife well, to care, and to let her know daily that she is, simply put, wonderful. I will listen to, and laugh with, and maybe even offer a small bit of helpful advice to the two girls we are attempting to launch into the world. They will not be with us much longer. I will breath normally, while trying to be a good Dad.

I will head to work, and do the best I know how, each day. I will try to bring excellence to my work, and try to care for those who work with me, offering them something more than just a place to go to go work.

I will persist.

Sara Groves has written a song, which came up a while ago on my IPod, here at 34,000 feet. Entitled “When It Was Over”, it is meditation on personal real stories of acceptance, forgiveness, and redemption.

My life is like that, every day.

“Love wash over a multitude of things…
Jesus save us from a multitude of things
Make us whole
There is a love that never fails
There is a healing that always prevails
There is a hope, that whispers about, the promise to wait while we’re working it out
There is a love….
A promise to wait, a promise to stay
So come with your love, and wash over us”

May Christ’s love wash over each one of you who reads this. Each day, henceforth and forever.

Amen.

Last Day Overseas

Its our last day in the UK. Today we visited Windsor Castle, and for us all, this one of our favorite stops.

The sense of history and majesty we got here is perhaps more emphasized because, well, we speak the language, and a way back in our families, as I mentioned in our Westminster Abbey visit, we may have some relatives. Then again, maybe not.

There is a sense of nobility in the Royals, even for all their family dysfunction, they represent a fascinating (and often bloody, I admit) legacy. Perhaps the most interesting bit (note, British term) of our tour was St. George's Room, pictured below at left, during a state dinner. Reminds me so much of dinner at our house, perhaps that was the connection I felt.

And then, to cap off the day, below is posted what happens when you leave your camera with two teenage girls.

Home tomorrow, thankful, a bit more cultured, and deeply grateful for the journey.

Twinkle Time Again

Tonight was our last night in Paris. As a mini-celebration and farewell, we headed to the Champ De Mars, where Napoleon once marched his troops, and much other history occurred, to have a small family picnic.

The first photo at left was taken at about 9:15 PM; it stays light out quite late here. The second photo was taken at 10:05PM, as "Twinkle Time", began for the first time of the evening. I will advise you that secondary smoke is a major issue for this evening picnic, the French love their "tabac". Phew!

Lovely, romantic, wonderful. A great way for us all to remember a great city. Back to London tomorrow for two more nights.

Hopefully a trip to Windsor Castle on Thursday.

The Last Two Days in Paris

It has been a busy two days here in Paris. Wonderful weather, and warm! Yesterday morning, in a bow to teenage lethargy and weariness, Nancy & I (together) headed off to the church of La Sainte-Chapelle, a stunning place, full of light and nearly the entry story of the Scriptures, all in stained glass. This church was built for the King, and to hold various Christian relics, now housed in Notre Dame.

We then strolled through the Left Bank and Latin Quarter, enjoying the narrow streets, and sights, smells (all wonderful) and sounds. It was a bit warmish (read, I was soaking wet!), so we stopped for lunch at a completely dinky little flaffel place, where I sat happily by the only air conditioner in that part of France for my lunch. How American of me. Shame on my carbon footprint.

After this, we returned to our hotel, rousted one of our weary travel-mates (name withheld), while the other continued to read (for fall school assignments) and headed off to visit the top (I did not know you could do this!) of the Arc 'de Triumph!

Important travelers note here. Do NOT make cell phone calls from the interior of the top of the Arc. The French people frown on this. I was busted for receiving the first call from my office in 10 days there. I have learned my lesson. Enough said.

Actually, my favorite part of this was watching the moving traffic below, in the traffic circle surrounding the Arc, attempt to actually negotiate the circle, completely without the aid of any traffic lights. There were several police officers watching the most dangerous section from curbside, and somehow pulling people over!

One other item of French custom. Do not jaywalk across this traffic intersection. If you do, (and as I witnessed from above) you will, after traversing the entire intersection / traffic circle at risk of your life, be directed by the astute police BACK across the same death trap, so that you may safely use the underground pedestrian tunnel. This same logic has brought us, well, um, French Toast, I guess. I love it here.

Today, the Paris Opera house was our stop, and pictured at left. How about this for a lobby. Disney Hall in Los Angeles pales in comparison.

Remembering Randy Pausch

It is with sadness that I need to interupt our European vacation to report the death of Dr. Randy Pausch. Dr. Pausch's book, The Last Lecture, was co-written by a journalist with the Wall Street Journal.

Randy spent his final months being lauded in arenas far beyond his specialty. ABC News declared him one of its three "Persons of the Year" for 2007. TIME magazine named him to its list of the 100 most influential people in the world. On thousands of Web sites, people wrote essays about what they had learned from him. As a book, "The Last Lecture" became a #1 bestseller internationally, translated into 30 languages.

Below is a fitting tribute to an amazing man. I hope I can grow up to be only part of the good man he was. My prayers are with the close family and friends of Dr. Pausch. May Grace abound where pain feels overwhelming.

Versailles, Impressionists, and The Laundromat

Today was a day full of variety. We took the early morning train to the Palace of Versailles, where we thought we might beat the crowds. Not. I am guessing we were there with a small crowd of, oh, say, 20,000.

How calming, how serene, how pastoral, how like the leisurely life of Louis XIV. Not. There is nothing like wrestling your way through a crowd of non-air conditioned people from all over the world. These people have a tendency to take photos of everything, including floorboards, doornobs, direction signs, and themselves. Once we got outside though, it was much more pleasant. It helps when there are several thousand acres of gardens.

It was worth the trip and the waiting though, to see the setting for the life of a completely extraordinary man. Louis rained over France for 72 years. I would be happy if I could just eat solid foods for that long.

Later in the day, Nancy and I dropped the girls off at our hotel, and went for our own little trip to the Musee d"Orsay, the art museum best known for its large collection of Impressionist Painters. Amazing! We were a bit sad to see that one of our (Nancy & I) favorite paintings, one that hangs in our family room, was out on loan, but the rest of the collection was wonderful. Never have I seen so much Impressionist work in one place.

After dinner, I decided it was time to partake in the life of common Parisians, and do some laundry. As I am an accomplished world traveller (note the subtle, yet detectable irony here), I felt a trip to the local laundromat would be simple. Oh naive me.

After reading the wonderful english instructions on the wall, I filled my washer with clothes and added the liquid detergent (shrewdly packed and provided by my brilliant wife) to the special little French soap-holder-thingie, I went to the French electronic electronic command post to start my washer. I punched in the number of the washer I was using and received a message in French, which included the daunting words "impossible" (pronounced with a French accent) on the read-out screen. "This is not good, I thought - I know what THAT word means!" I then decided something must be wrong with the washer I was using, so I deftly changed machines.

But what to do about the now-lost liquid soap!? I know! Grab a sock from the dirty clothes, swab out the the special little soap-holder-thingie, and now take the "super soapy sock" and chuck it into the new washer! Stunning logic! How could I go wrong now? I had overcome the evil gremlins of French laundry. I was even pondering the marketing potential of the Super Soapy Sock, picturing myself retiring early, living on some South Pacific island, all from the proceeds of my sock idea.

I then returned to the command post, punched in the new washer number, and found the same message "im-pos-ee-bley"! After giving in and asking a fellow laudromat patron what was going on, turns out there is some national law here in France that prohibits laundry-doing any later than 9 PM. Well, excuse me, country of France, I have dirty underthings!

I trudged home, defeated by a French laundromat, with a super soapy sock nestled in the middle of my dirty clothes bag. Will Franco - American relations suffer? Will Steve ever have clean shorts?

More tomorrow.

The Center of a Town, and of a Country

Today was our first full day in Paris, and we started off with a wonderful whirlwind tour of the Louvre with our new friend Christi Bart, who runs Norman Conquests, a fascinating custom tour company. Turns out, Christi is a former actress (General Hospital!), who decided to chuck it all, and move to Paris 20 or so years ago. She has never looked back!

After visiting the amazing underground level of the Louvre, and (of course....yawn) seeing the Mona Lisa, we headed off to the Left Bank, and walked some of the very first streets of Paris, trod more than 200 years ago by the likes (really) of Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin. These men came to France to learn of the French Revolution, and apply some of its principals to a new document they were preparing for the colonies. We walked past a restaurant (please do not quiz me with the name) that Franklin frequented for dinner!

After this we strode across the Seine again and on to the grounds of the imposing cathedral of Notre Dame. Fascinatingly, we learned that the geographic center point of all of France, not just Paris alone, is a spot in front of Notre Dame. Directly in front of the cathedral, mounted in the pavement and pictured at left, is a small disk that marks “point zéro,” the reference point from which all distances in France are measured.

Imagine that, the center point is a church. As we entered, the noon Mass was under way, and I had the chance to take the photo at left, not perfectly composed, but quite meaningful to me.

I kept thinking about that idea the rest of the day. I still am musing upon the words “point zéro”. The center point, the place of starting. The Beginning. And then thinking of the words of institution in the Mass, "This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper." And then.... "The Body of Christ", and "The Blood of Christ".

I will remember where the center of France is for a long time. Although many may argue about where France is today, perhaps for me it is better to think more about where my "center" is.

Paris

Enough said.