The last few weeks have been some of the most wonderful of my life.  I wanted to share the FULL story, here below, with all who have been keeping up on our work. 

Hello all,

What would the packing list for a 10 day excursion across the Himalaya include?  Perhaps, in the traveler’s large rucksack tents, stoves, hiking poles, $200 hiking boots, $20 socks, cases of provisions, pots pans and utensils would be found.  Carrying such a load on these mountains would prove daunting indeed.  I wonder if the one carrying it would even be able to look up and enjoy the trip they were making under such a burden.

Few things have impressed me as much as the story of the peregrini.  They were Celtic monks who would set sail into the frigid North Atlantic Ocean.  What made them exceptional was that, in their sect, using sails and oars was prohibited.  It was their desire to be driven by waves and winds to an unknown destination.  It was their belief that wherever they landed was the predestined place for them to share the joy of God with others.

I set off on my journey scantily equipped for a western hiker but carrying too much baggage to be a true peregrini.  In my small red backpack was a single change of clothes, a simple first aid kit, a bottle of water, a few chappati covered with jam, some almonds, a jacket, reading material, some personal effects and a large Pictorial Dictionary of Sign Language.  On the back of my bag was strapped a pair of elbow crutches.  My first destination was Puchowk to visit a village girl named Adrena who suffers from MS.  I knew the way along the first hour of trail (given I visited Adrena once before last Dec.) but was clueless as to the path for the 10 days to come.

Before even reaching Adrena’s house a boy came to fetch me.

“They sent me to get you.”

“How?  They didn’t even know I was coming.”
Continue reading An Uninvited Guest

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Since sending out the letter which informed our friends, family and supporters of our decision to resign from IDEAS, we have received many messages.  The message we originally sent out contained a few gaps and was missing some important information.  In particular many of our supporters inquired as to where they should now send their donations.  While we have sent in a letter to IDEAS informing them that we intend to resign, our working relationship will remain active until August 1st of 2009.  Since we are terminating our working relationship on good terms and with mutual understanding, our IDEAS account will remain open during this transition period.    Continue reading Clarification and our potential USA itinerary

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            If I understand correctly, an ultrasound is just a fancy echo.  When its sonic waves hit something solid, something real, they are reflected back to the sensor.  This appears as white light on the monitor.  On the other hand, the areas that are empty, nebulous, void only appear as a blank darkness on the black screen.  Receiving the 2D print outs, we looked at the images of our child.  On the paper it was written, “3 vessels detected”.  Sure enough, there our baby floated… as if suspended… by three little vessels of life.  The membranes around our child had earlier separated.  The fabric of its world had seemed to be falling apart.  But after waiting, resting, eating and praying we had our proof.  It was proof in black and white. Sure the pictures were lacking a dimension, but still they didn’t lie.  All was healed.
  Continue reading Ultrasound Resolutions

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     When the Ganga (the river Ganges) reaches the end of Varanasi the water is so polluted that it contains no dissolved oxygen,  thus eliminating any possibility of flora or fauna.  Thirty open sewers within the city limits pour into the already toxic river.  The Ganga has also been called the ‘river of life’ but as it exits India’s most holy city there is only a tide of death.   my brother mark,  his wife Nicole and my nephew Lincoln came to visit us, so we decided to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the longest continually inhabited city on the face of the earth. Continue reading India is Burning

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     On November 5th at 10:30 am Amanda, Asher and I were in a van driving towards Phuentsholing, Bhutan.  My mom, 2 aunts (Kay and Janet) and Brenton and Drew (2 of my co-workers in our ECTA Endeavors project) were high overhead on a Druk Air Flight leaving the Kingdom.  Our meetings with different government officials and Bhutanese NGO’s went very well, the Queen was delighted with our proposal, we found a great sight for a pilot project in the region of Haa, the weather was dry and cool, the days where cloudless with impeccable views and I gained a good 5 lbs. due to all the yak meat that I ate.  Thanks to all these factors the long, winding drive to Phuentsholing was passing quickly blurred by my daydreaming.  I dreamed about living in one of the quaint, rustic farmhouses warming up next to a bokari on a snowy day.  I dreamed about flying over the mountains in an ultra light aircraft evacuating patients from remote villages and Amanda delivering babies in a hospital that actually appreciated her presence.  I dreamed about drier monsoons, riding my bicycle around to different villages on health visits and Asher attending the local school dressed in a gho.  I dreamed about the better days that could be on the horizon.
     Suddenly, the window beside me exploded and I was showered with fragments of broken glass.  I looked through the brokenness to see a women staring at me in shock.  She was in her 20’s, a Nepali, dressed in rags, faced baked like leather by the sun and holding a sledgehammer.  A chip from a rock she had been breaking caused the incident.  Soon the driver and the project foreman (an Indian Military Engineer) were arguing.  Continue reading Three Questions

Hello All,

At 5:30 a.m. last Wednesday, I pulled out of my Grandpa’s driveway for the last time.  I was driving a yellow ‘Penske’ truck when I looked back at his house and thought,  “The lights are on but nobody’s home.”

It is sad you know… not that my grandfather is gone.  No, that is not sad at all.  Dr. Edward P. Phillips lived one of the fullest lives that I’ve been witness to.  Dentist, World War II veteran, father of 4, professional by day, farmer and cowboy by night, professor of anatomy at Ohio State University,  world traveler and devoted man of God; he was an epic man.  The week before his death he was driving a bulldozer and was felling trees with his chainsaw.  He was 89.  He only retired in July of this year after practicing Dentistry for 65 years.  Back in January he removed my wisdom tooth and gave his great grandson Asher his first cleaning.  Then one day he drove his turbo diesel VW bug home, sat in his favorite easy chair, put on a John Wayne film and suddenly, silently, painlessly, peacefully died… still sitting upright.

Continue reading Skeletons in the Closet

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Devi went down to Rimbic on market day. Two parents had begun to carry firewood again so the Food for Thought program was reopened. She bought fruits and vegetables that do not grow in our village to introduce a larger spectrum of vitamins to the malnourished kids. On Wednesday, we asked Himal to carry up the produce. He made a lame excuse and said he would carry up the load on his horse the next day. He didn’t. On Friday, we asked him again, but he decided to sleep the day away instead. On Sunday, Jai Narayan carried up our goods in a burlap sack on his back. The rotten produce leaked through and wet his shirt. Smelling the load from far away passersby asked him, “What are you carrying? Whose it for?”
 Continue reading Rotten Tomatoes

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It is only a short walk from the end of the vehicle road to the trail which descends to Siri Khola, yet it exhausts Amanda.  She rests in Maiju’s house as we wait for the carriers to arrive.  They come.  We drink tea.  It is a sparkling clear day in the heart of monsoon.  Since Amanda’s feet no longer need to be elevated, the men vote for using the chair instead of the stretcher.  A piece of wood is nailed across the rear two legs of the chair.  A namlo is slung under its feet.  The person to be carried is lashed in with blankets.  One man balances and carries the load.  Suren comes up to me and says,  “Sir, you delivered my baby when my wife was having a very hard time.  You helped me out… now it is my turn.” Continue reading The First Week of the Rest of Our Lives

In short, Amanda has been through a miscarriage.  She is doing much better now, but came very close to death.  Below is the very long story of what has happened to us over the last week.

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Tuesday 5:30 p.m.     It is raining and I’m prepared to escape.  My frustrations and annoyances have been growing for weeks.  Hearing that the men from the village are planning to travel to work on the dangerous, inhospitable road leading over the Natu La to Tibet is the last straw.  Most of the last year of my life was devoted to seeing that the men from our village didn’t have to engage in deadly work.  The famine last year drove the men into a position where they would have to work on Natu La to ensure their family’s survival.  I stopped them from going with a promise to help.  First came the Dairy Co-op and then the Rice Program.  People began to earn a living and had food to feed their families in the midst of the famine.  Then came May 2008, a good pea harvest and June, a good potato harvest.  The villagers are in the best financial position they have ever been in.  Despite this, in late June they decide again to go to Natu La to make even more money.  This would mean working in a constant downpour at 13,000ft on the side of cliffs with no rain gear or safety equipment.

Continue reading Born Again

Hello All,

The two men with the chebrungs play. They pound their Subbah drums to a peculiar, particular beat… their feet follow the leading of their hands. They dance to say thank you. They say thank you because they are happy. They are happy because a bridge of cement, wire and bamboo spans a river that will soon swell with monsoon rains. They are happy because their own khukuris cut the bamboo. They are happy that the village children no longer face danger en-route to school. They are happy because they now have five new Nepali friends and eleven foreign ones. It has been a hard week of work but now they play and beckon us to join them.

Continue reading Bridge over Troubled Waters