Well, El Nino has finally come to Southern California.  After months of projections and predictions, the showers started yesterday and promise not to let up for a week. As I sit here and look out my window at my backyard soaking up this downpour, all I see are unfinished projects: a deck not stained, a staircase that needs to be built, a half built chicken coop, and a struggling vegetable garden. It's days like these that I can lay in bed with a cup of tea and say to myself, "Well none of that is getting fixed today."

It's easy for me, a former Pacific Northwesterner, to sit back and enjoy the rain.  It soothes my soul as only few things can. I realize many right now do not feel soothed. My friends who are closely connected to orphanages in Haiti have had sleepless nights and a week of torture waiting by the phone or computer. Not to mention, the people of Haiti and the reality they are living in the images and videos I see on my computer.  I can turn off my computer -- they can't turn off their lives.

Traveling and teaching is nearly always a joy for me, primarily because of the incredible privilege I have of meeting Christians from other parts of the world and hearing their story. In the fall, I met two young women from far eastern Russia, living just miles from the Chinese border. They'd traveled two week by train and bus in order to be in southern Germany to study the Bible. Moldova, Romania, and other parts far and wide expose me to the larger body of Christ, and it's through these travels that I learn first hand just how flexible the wine skins of the gospel are.