Today I write about someone we both know, someone who has profoundly influenced my life and work.

If anything, Bruce Menning is a gardener. To see his garden is to admire it. Tomato plants stand at attention with their orbs so red I start searching pockets for salt shaker and knife. Pole beans wind their lacy way to the sky. Zucchini sprawl, indolently awaiting wok or woodchuck–whichever gets them first.

Just finished General Synod, a nationwide meeting for our denomination. To think--I've spent most of my life trying to avoid synods. This was my first one, and I loved it. Instead of tiresome bureaucracy I found a gathering of servants. We talked, we prayed, we worshiped. We tried to discern "What next, Lord?" It was good, solid, intense, hopeful. After that we have our denominational missions conference. It's not my year to go, but folks like my talk on how to make videos enough that I get to come back. Nice to meet our missionaries face-to-face.

Back To Up the Bible…is your Bible backed up? Many aren’t.

Getting Word to World: a lot’s been done, a lot remains.

What’s been done moves people, feeds the faithful, builds churches.

All Internet Content Carries Risk

Read that again:

All Internet content carries risk.

A computer expert said that. What it means is everything you get from the internet—email, pictures, text, videos, phone-calls—has risk to it.

Just like the rest of life: driving to church has its risks. Sending my kids to school has risks.

Owning a television has its risks. My family can waste time in front of it, get marketed things they don’t need, see things that aren’t appropriate.

Friends and family have asked me to give basic instructions for keeping their family, computers, and information safe from Internet exploits.

You can review it by clicking on the Internet item above.

The bus to the airport leaves in thirty minutes.

I just remembered: I owe the man down the street 75 cents and he owes me a clean pants and shirt. Leave suitcase in lobby, sprint a block North.

Laundry in hand, the strangest thought occurs: I should say goodbye to that prostitute I met on day one. Stupid idea, and stupid that I don’t remember her name. She has a name. She told me. I forgot it. I feel guilty for that.

Calling her “that prostitute” feels wrong now.

This is Fletcher. He didn’t come with a computer, so when I taught, we people took turns sharing with him so he could learn. When I taught, I often had him operate my computer while I stood and told him what to type. It felt like driving from the backseat, but it worked out well.

He was so gentle, yet so determined. Very soft spoken, yet I watched him work through English instructions for Bible publishing software.

He’ll go home and continue typesetting Bibles in Myanamar (used to be called Burma).

It’s wierder than pizza for breakfast, but I’m really growing fond of Thai breakfast:

It’s soup, basically rice boiled in a watery broth with a few pieces of shrimp or chicken.

Fairly bland…until you hit the condiment bowls.

First, add three spoonfuls of roasted garlic. Then two of ginger, one of some dried vegetable pieces I can’t identify, then a few spoonfuls of chopped green onions.

Next: salt. Lot of salt. I’ll sweat it all off by noon.

Stir it up.