Somehow in my June and July months-in-review, I forgot to blog about two significant events.

First we had a surprise 60th birthday party at our house for my dad.

My dad's sister and part of her family were there, as well as his 3 kids and their associated children. Managing to surprise my dad with so many little ones "in the know" was quite an accomplishment.
Next, Tara planned a pre-Africa camping trip for herself, me, and my parents.We went to
Wilderness State Park, which is in Michigan's lower peninsula near the
Mackinaw Bridge and stayed in a rustic cabin for two nights.

Camping with my sister always reminds me of her great perseverance, a character trait which I lack, at least to the extent which she has it. Her perseverance is always apparent in her hiking, particularly when things get tough. This time as we signed the hiker's log near one trail head, we noticed that the previous hikers' comments had become increasingly ominous over the past month, starting with "Beautiful hike, a few mosquitoes." and moving toward something like "MOSQUITOES ATE MY DOG!!!!! TURN BACK NOW IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE!"
Some people, seeing messages like that might say, "Wow, the beach we passed a few minutes ago was looking mighty good today." My sister (and dad) however, having once set a goal, saw the messages and thought, "We won't let a few mosquitoes drive us away." So, we lathered up with our carcinogenic DEET and hit the trail. As promised, we had not gone far before we were met by swarms of mosquitoes, rising up from either side of the path like clouds of gnats. I actually had to breathe through my teeth so as not to swallow them. The DEET worked quite well, and my little mosquito friends helpfully pointed out any areas which had been missed.

Not only did Tara persevere through those mosquitoes for 1.5 miles, but she was her normal fun self during the entire journey, which encouraged the rest of us and made us think we were actually doing something fun. We finally made it to the top of a dune, miraculously mosquito-free, ate lunch as planned, enjoyed the view and then we all decided that enough of our goal had been reached to turn around.

I see that kind of perseverance and determination in Tara in other aspects of her life as well. My parents have a video of her running hurdles in high school where she falls down in the middle of the race, gets back up and somehow beats at least one of her competitors (maybe all, I can't remember). This quality has pushed her to follow God in radical and hard ways, including homeschooling her kids and ultimately moving to Africa last month.
Back to the camping trip: Tara and I had another adventure when we came up with a harebrained scheme to kayak across a large-ish Lake Michigan bay to our cabin. The waves were about 4-6 feet tall. My parents, not in favor of our plan, sucessfully resisted their instincts to tell their 30-something kids they weren't allowed to do something.

To make a long story short, the trip was really fun until we reached the other side of the bay and learned the limits of our entry-level kayaks. The waves, going over a sandbar, became smaller, faster and more powerful. My boat was the first to repeatedly fill and capsize. Tara was doing fine until she came closer to shore to help me. We were never in grave danger, but after awhile we were tired, cold, our feet were hurting from the rocks, and we didn't know exactly how much longer we had to go to get our cabin. It wasn't a feeling I had experienced very often in my comfortable life. Even at that time, I saw in Tara her perserverance and unwillingness to quit. At one point we stood next to our boats in the water and prayed for the adventure to end.
Shortly after that, we saw the welcome sight of my dad walking toward us through a marshy area at the water's edge. He had spotted us through a new friend's binoculars. Once he reached the shore, he kept walking, hiking boots and all, right into the water to grab my kayak. His new friend had no choice but to similarly sacrifice his own shoes to help my sister. When I saw my dad coming toward me through the water, I was reminded on some level of how the father of the prodigal son greeted his boy, running, ignoring all dignity, joyful that his wayward son had returned.
"Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found"