I love home.  The flat land of northern Minnesota, right on the edge of Red River Valley.  There is something about the hot humid summers and the bitter cold, snowy winters.  It makes a man a man.  It makes you appreciate life.  It makes you appreciate the Blessing of family and friends.

My life, my personality, has been forged there.  The story of my life is woven in the land where I worked the land, herded cows, watched my mother and grandparents buried, held my godsons as they were baptized, where I scraped my knees.

But my life has also been forged in my travels.  In my youth, I checked out every book in the community library about other countries.  My folks had a bit of a traveling bug - my Dad spending time in the army during the Korean War and my mother being happy to tell us stories about her trip to Canada so long ago.

I’ve been lucky enough to travel too.  I can tell you the first time I rode an escalator.  The first time that I’ve seen the ocean.  The first time I left Minnesota or North Dakota.  Seeing the world is still a bit surreal.  My passport has the stamp of over a dozen countries, and sometimes I have to pinch myself when I realize that I’m living on the far side of the world.

Part of living overseas is the benefit of seeing and experiencing different things and different people.  Say what you will about Australia, but it is in many ways, not at all like home. The animals, the landscape, the cities and towns are very different then those that I grew up with.

But in many ways, it is also very similar.  Especially the people.  It consistently amazes me that regardless where I go in the world, the people are genuinely good.  The country changes, the politics change, the economy changes, but everywhere I’ve been, each place has their fair share of good people.  There are going to be people that don’t like you.  But for every one that hates you, there is a host that enjoy what you bring.

To be clear - there are very good people here.

Regardless where you go, the culture is going to be different, but different doesn’t mean bad.  It forces people to view the world, their lives, and their place in it in a different light.  It forces people to open their minds, open their views, and open their hearts…or to close them down and become bitter.

For the last ten months, I’ve lived in Australia.  I’ve enjoyed the experience.  For regular readers, they know that I’ve written volumes about the experience.  And that I’ve enjoyed it.

My time here is not done.  There is a host of things that I would like to accomplish personally and professionally.  As much as I miss my family and my friends, today, this is where I belong.

Recently, I had a very difficult choice to make - I had a host of options in front of me, most of which that would lead me closer to home…some that would, for a time, leave me far away.

I chose, for the time being, the one farther away.

For those that haven’t guessed, I’ve committed to staying here in Australia for the next year or two.  I’ve got a fair amount to grow, a fair amount to develop, a fair amount to learn.  I will miss my family and friends, but this isn’t permanent.  It is only one more step in this pilgrimage we call life.

 OK!  OK!  I’ll admit it…I took a vacation.  My intent was to keep the website updated…needless to say, that didn’t happen.  Not even an update on what was happening, or where I was.

The calls and emails can stop.  I’m back.

My family was down visiting, and while I’m a bit delinquent…and I haven’t posted in a while (badumpbump)…I’ve also got a good passel of stories and memories to share and update, along with a little news this week.

For the readers of the abroad section…I’m now even farther behind, so as the weeks go on, expect even more updates, and some darn good pictures.

 For those that were worried - wondering why the posts stopped - rest assured it was merely a trip back to where I was born and raised.

20,000 miles in the air, 2700 driving miles, countless friends and family, seemingly unlimited barbeques, and a solid reconfirming of that fact that I’m a very blessed individual later, I’m back in Melbourne - not quite rested, but very happy.

Expect the posts to be back on track this week - and a full recap of the events of the last two weeks.

 I received an Easter card that showed a group of men in beards and robes playing basketball.  The caption was: “During a Lively Game of Pick-up Basketball, Peter Denies Jesus Three Times.”

I imagine that the rest of the Apostles thought that it was a good joke when Jesus stopped calling Simon, Simon, and started referring to him as Peter - the rock.  Throughout the Gospel’s, Simon Peter comes across as anything but a rock.  He comes across as impulsive, arrogant, a good talker…and a so-so doer.

In the end, God has either a tremedous sense of humor or a great sense of irony.

Of all of the Apostles to choose as the leader of his chosen band of followers, he chose the one that the Gospels seem to point out as the loose cannon.  Even in the Easter story - you have the Peter and John, ‘the discipile whom Jesus loved’ rushing to the tomb.  Through it all, John was the perfect discipile…and yet, it was Peter that was chosen.

Not that it wasn’t painful for Peter.

Three times Peter was asked by Jesus by the fire on the shoreline, “Peter, do you love me?” and Peter was hurt that he had to be asked three times…but wasn’t it Peter that denied him three times in a row at the fire by the night of Jesus’s trail?

So Peter, far from being the rock, was made the leader of the early church and told to ‘feed the sheep.’

God must have sense of humor, or a sense of irony:

The king of the Jews, the savior of the world, born in a manger.

The leader of the persecution of the early church, Paul, turned into its greatest preacher.

The growth of the early church built, sometimes quite literally, on the tombs of the martyrs.

But isn’t it true today too?

Those of material wealth starved for love and affection.

Those of power and affluence leading lives of quiet desperation.

Those of money and riches that go in fruitless searching for spiritual guidance and direction.

In truth, just as Jesus makes Peter strong in his weakness, so he continues to do to this day.  Some of the happiness people I know are not people of material wealth, but are rich in spiritual wealth and love and compassion.  Some of the people that I respect and admire most, “gave up” affluence for a simpler life - of struggle and toil, but of worth far beyond money and fame.

We are weak, but He is strong.  We are impatient, but He tempers us.  We are sinners, He forgives.  We are unworthy, but by His death and His undying love, He makes us clean.

It wasn’t by chance that Simon became Peter, it was by love of his flock (”Feed my Sheep!”)…and maybe a little chuckle….perhaps over a lively game of pickup basketball….

 Easter is a time for hope.  At Easter Vigil service, the Archbishop of Melbourne said it best, “Easter is a time for renewal, rebirth, and new life.”

But there is also a message in the Easter Gospels - there was a lot of unbelief.  There was a lot of naysayers.  From the disciples who scoffed at the women, to the two men walking on the road with the stranger - to dear Thomas who will forever be known as “doubting Thomas.”

It is easy to look back and explain their doubt.  People don’t rise from the dead.  They had seen Jesus die.  They had seen him laid into, then sealed into a tomb.  They had seen the guards at the door.

They had seen the miracles, but much like the scribes and pharisees, they didn’t believe that he could come down and save Himself.

In truth, He couldn’t come down and save Himself.

It wasn’t the fact that He was uncapable, it was the fact that He loved us so intensely, so dearly, so unconvieably, that the choice between dying a horrible death on a cross versus seeing us destroyed by death and sin was no choice at all for He that loves us.

I shudder when I think about that unconditional love.

Yet it is too easy to look at this and be shamed - shamed for my doubting, shamed for my lack of action, shame for failing to be there for those that I love, shame for seeming to be so far away from where I should be.

One of my favorite songs is a relatively modern hymn called simply, “Anthem.”  The lines are simple:

“We are called.  We are chosen.  We are Christ for one another….”

Each of us is called.  Each of us is chosen.  Each of us are to be Christ to one another.

Yet day in and day out, I walk through this life and often times I fail to see faces of Christ in those around me.  I fail to live as Christ for those around me.  I fail to heed that call where I am to go - or I fail to see the path laid out before me.

We believe that he rose.  We believe that he reigns above, yet our eyes are closed as tightly as the disciples that mocked the women that ran to the tomb.

But I am reminded by Peter, that there is still hope.

Peter, the man who was probably more shamed on that first Passsiontide then anyone - with his denial of Christ three times and his abandonment of His friend and Lord.  Peter didn’t doubt the women.  He wondered, he marvaled at what it all meant, but the Gospels clearly state, he didn’t doubt.

I once heard a priest describe a saint as a sinner that just kept on trying - and maybe that is the hope that should be born this Easter.  The hope that even if our eyes are closed to Him today, even if we are walking down the long and lonely road and we fail to recognize Him walking with us, even if all hope seems lost and we don’t know where to turn, like Peter, may we not doubt, but marvel, and hope, and rejoice in the love - the undying love - that Christ showed for us on the cross.  May we be lead down the path so that we too might be Christ for one another.

With three days before Christmas, there was no Christmas spirit to be found in apartment 2708A Harbour Esplanade, Docklands, Victoria (ie Melbourne, Australia).As wonderful as the experience has been in my first forty days in Australia, things also haven’t been perfect…as a matter of fact, they have been far from perfect in some cases.  In that stoic style I learned back on the farm, you keep the good, throw out the bad and you move on.

But the bad does remain lurking in the background….and it builds.

For someone more accoustomed to shoveling snow around Christmas then slathering on the sunscreen, there is a cultural shock.

But part of it too is the time difference.  It is hard to keep up the old friendships and relationships that I’ve held so dear for so many years.  To cap it off Christmas was days away, and it made the desire for home, for family, and for friends, all the more urgent.

Don’t get the wrong idea, things have been great - the people have been great, but small things, like trying to find the grocery store, learning to drive, learning a city, learning a culture, learning where the churches are, trying to fit into a new culture, trying to work through the beaucracy of a new office, trying to fit into a new role, email that works sporadically, cell phones that work sporadically, not seeing family and friends for extended time - all of them create a little stress that adds up.

I haven’t made things any easier either - the time differences and hassles of trying to get things done in a world working sixteen hours behind hasn’t been fun either.  Time slips away.

I noticed it first this weekend…three wonderful Christmas parties.  One a work party on Friday night (with an after party in my apartment that almost welcomed in the sunrise), and two barbeques on Saturday in the beautiful Melbourne weather were heart warming - both for the people (I have no less then five invites for Christmas dinner) as well as the food (fresh oysters, shrimp, beef tenderloin, salmon….you get the idea).

On Sunday, I was feeling a bit meloncoly.  At work on Monday, I didn’t feel well.  A doctor could have made the diagnosis…I was homesick at Christmas time.

But I was no doctor.

Today, three little things in succession about threw me over the edge, and for the first time in forty days, I thought to myself, “What in the world am I doing here…I should just go home.”

Just as I said those fateful words, I got a call from the receptionist, there was a package for me at the front desk.

Figuring it was yet another in an endless string of forms and packets that I needed to fill out, I walked a bit half heartedly to the front desk.

There was not a package of paperwork sitting on the desk, but a big box, from Claremont, Minnesota.

Taking it to my desk and cutting it open, there I found a one foot Christmas tree, a set of lights, decorations, a cross, Christmas candy, and spagehtti (long, funny story - for another time), and a little mistletoe (wish I had THAT at the after Christmas party).

I will admit, that is when the guilt came over me.

I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve the friends and family that I have…but surely, surely, I knew better then to doubt the friendship and the sincerity that comes with the years.

As I walked home in the warm afternoon sunshine, I watched the busy shoppers pushing through the shops and stalls along the bustling streets of Melbourne.  Happy that I had a little Christmas in that pack on my back.

I can’t thank everyone - but there are people back home that have certianly made my burden a little lighter here in Australia.  To Tom, Mary, Abby and Sarah…thanks for the Christmas shopping, calls, letters, and prayers.  To the entire Woerner clan - Pat, Kattie, Kyle, Jim, Trish and the Kragers - can’t thank you enough for the help and support.  To the Peterson’s - glad I saw the Opera House and glad I’ve gotten the emails.  To Matt, Stacy, Lincoln and Zander - the phone calls are are always welcome.  To Dave, Tracy, Katie, and Thomas - still think of the send off and laugh.  To the Maxwell’s for support and techincal assistance.  To Mary Ann, Nate(s) (Smithson and Jansen), Helvig, Daninger, and all the men of the U of M FarmHouse - keep the updates coming. To Jed, Shannon, Gavin, Kyra, Carley, and Reagan for bringing a little Christmas to an old Grinches heart.  To all of the friends and family that are keeping me in their thoughts and prayers this holiday season - can’t tell you how appreciated it is.

Will say that as I put up the tree this evening and put up the small nativities that I bought for Christmas…but were still sitting in their wrapping…the first song that I chose to play on my computer/stereo was “We Need A Little Christmas” which seemed all together fitting for the evening…

The second was a random pick that the computer made, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”  The song about a man who doubts his faith, but is reminded by the church bells peeling on Christmas Day that God is not dead, and doesn’t sleep.  In a few days, we will all be celebrating His birthday, but it is clear, that He isn’t dead, and doesn’t sleep…He comes, and He does His work in each of us, in the most remarkable of ways.  Sometimes even a simple box of Christmas cheer.

From Melbourne, Australia, wishing you and yours a very merry Christmas.

Mark’s Christmas Tree - A Gift of Faith from the DeWitz Family.  Peace on Earth! Good will to Mankind!  Melbourne, Australia.

The last Thursday of November dawned overcast and rainy in Australia.  In Melbourne, just another work day.  In the United States, Thanksgiving Day.

After work, a group of co-workers and I went to the establishment next to our building to put down a pit of amber fluid and help me celebrate our nations peculair holiday - a day for nothing but giving thanks.

The bar was closed for a private event, but the owner allowed us to sit at one of the tables under the awnings and drink a pint or two.  As we laughed and joked, I looked longing at the festivities inside.

Long tables filled the bar.  Autumn center pieces flush with American flags were scattered throughout the tables.  Cheerful faces filled the tables as glasses clinked and laughter wafted out onto the streets.  With disbelief, I watched as the turkey was triumphantly carried from the kitchen and all of the sides were passed out to each of the tables.  I could see only four feet from through the window, mashed potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, gravy - in short all of the trimings.

It was odd to be sitting outside, looking in at the feast and the joy, seperated by only a pain of glass.  As an American, I was looking at what seemed to be my birthrite.  Part of me could imagine that it was my family sitting around those tables, laughing, joking, and feasting.

Later, as I feasted on my own, on king pawns, fresh scallops, and crab…I thought of all of the wonderful things that I had to be thankful for.  My God, my country, my family, my friends, the experiences, the wonderful teachers, the beauty of the world, all of the material wealth.  Truly, there is much to be thankful for.

As I reflected on these things, part of me was brought back to our little farm on the northern plains of Minnesota - back to when I was young and sitting on my grandmother’s knee, learning the words to “America the Beautiful” one cold, snowy Thanksgiving Day.

“O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stern impassioned stress, A thoroughfare of freedom beat, Across the wilderness!”

How many millions, or perhaps billions, or people are like me - looking longingly through the window at what lies beyond.  Not the material wealth, but the freedoms, the rights, the liberties that we take advantage of every day.  To how many people do those things look so very close, but yet, like me, locked out, away from the bouty that lies everyday before us as Americans.

How many of us are like our forefathers - blazing away through the wilderness.  Though today it is less a literal wilderness, but more a wilderness of material excess, selfishness, greed, envy, fear and complacency.  How many of us are trying to build, with stern impassioned stress, a thoroughfare of freedom beat for those around the world, as well as our own back yard, the poor, the disenfranchised, the ignorant, the people yearning to worship, to speak freely, to live lives of purpose.

We as Americans have so much to be thankful for, that one day is not enough.  One day of giving glory to God is not enough.  We must live it and breath it everyday in all that we do.

We are pilgrims in this world, and the work goes on.

From the - normally - warm sunny beaches of Melbourne, Australia - wishing all of my family and friends a very blessed and wonderful Thanksgiving.

Well, I made it.  It was smooth sailing almost the whole way.  But boy am I tired.  There are a lot of things that I need to  post over the coming days and weeks.  Readers will need to bear with me as some of them may be out of order (example - preparing for the trip posts may come after some of the posts about actually being down here!)

For that I apologize - but the only reason I post is to bring things that are insightful, humour, or just interesting.  That won’t change.

G’day mates.

This Country Boy is moving to Australia.  Thanks to a good career opportunity, I will be spending the next 12 months in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.  From the frozen plains of the great upper Midwest of the United States, to the hills and vales of Australia…what a trip for niave country boy.

 It was not a good Lent.  I struggled.  I struggled with my Lenten promises - the things that I swore to do, or not to do.  I struggled with my prayer life.  I struggled in my faith.

Things just didn’t turn out the way I wanted them too.  But I think that is ok.

If you look at the people, the characters in the Passion narrative, the people in the Easter story, they too struggled.

Jesus asked that the cup be taken from him.  He sweat blood he was so distressed.  Yet the cup, his cruel humiliation and death on the cross, was not to be denied.

Judas suffered.  What his thoughts, his motives were, we can only guess.  Greed?  Misplaced faith in the priests and temple officials?  In the end, he sold out his friend Jesus for thirty pieces of silver.  When faced with the inner struggle of the heart, he chose to end his life, rather then live with the guilt.

Peter suffered.  Jesus told him that he would deny Him three times.  Peter said even if I have to die with You, I will never deny you.  And yet, Peter denied Him.  The Gospel tells us that Peter went out and wept bitterly.

All of Jesus’ follows suffered.  They fled from their friend.  They left him abandoned in His darkest hour of need.

From the very high of the Passover Feast when triumph seemed so close.  When it appeared that things were going fine and just as expected.  It hit the very low of Good Friday.  How quickly things can turn.

How could anyone have foresaw the triumphant joy of Easter.

Jesus lived and rose triumphant.

Judas chose to end his life, rather then have faith in his friend that he betrayed.

Peter repented and chose to live on, to have faith in what lay ahead, regardless what it may be.

How very different those choices where - but in many ways, we face those same choices today.

We can be like Judas and decry the cruelness of this life.  We can choose to focus on negative, we can choose to be bitter.  We can chose to die - perhaps not physically, but in our faith life, in our community of the spirit.  We can chose to give up hope and live - and die - in misery.

Or we can be like Peter, who weak as he was, chose repentance and vowed to do better.  We can make the choice to be and become better with each passing day.  We can choose to celebrate and live in the joy of Easter, while still working to make our lives and the lives of those around us better.

I struggled with Lent, and in many ways those struggles continue, but I can chose to accept those struggles with the joy of Easter in my heart.