Paper Dove Missions
Our Journey to the Mission Aviation Field : Justin, Anna & Liam Toews
Traveling Mercies…
Posted on August 5, 2014
How does young mother get a large car seat, a stroller, a diaper bag, a shoulder bag with 5 pieces of valuable computer equipment and a purse shoved inside, and an 8-month-old baby onto two flights across the United States?
I didn’t know either. So I prayed. I asked others to pray.
Getting to the check-in counter with an additional huge rolling suitcase and duffel bag required the help of my caring mother. At the counter I asked if there was any way I could get assistance with going through security or getting on the plane.
No. That was for the severely disabled only.
But God.
But God, out of a hundred US Airways employees at the San Diego Airport that day, had placed my feet in front of the woman who would be the gate attendant for my flight. “You’re going to Charlotte? I’m working that flight. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make sure you get taken care of.” Relief. Our first traveling mercy.
After saying our goodbyes, I strolled Liam, with his car seat attached to the back of the stroller, his diaper bag on my back and all my computer equipment and purse on my shoulder, into the security line. We had the next 8 hours of traveling to do, alone.
More traveling mercies were in store for us. The security guard said Liam was the quietist baby he’d ever seen, and the orders of the day were to “leave your shoes on, your liquids and your computers in your bags.” Hallelujah. We were on a roll.
I waved a friendly hello to my friend the gate attendant when we arrived at the gate. She beckoned me closer and whispered to me: “We’re not supposed to pre-board families anymore, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Everything was going as smooth as butter. My heart relaxed.
Then the coffee maker broke.
I’m not sure who decided to make coffee on the plane while it was parked at the gate, but they unearthed an issue that took half an hour to fix and sign off paperwork for. Liam was already restless, and we hadn’t taken off yet. Our 4.5 hour flight turned to into 5. We only had a 1.5 hour layover, and the entire Charlotte airport to get across. We were cutting it closer than I wanted to.
I won’t detail you with stories of heroic naps and diaper changes on the plane, but I will say God bless the lady who randomly offered to hold Liam so that I could use the bathroom. Especially because I wasn’t thinking of myself at all. Traveling mercies.
I was watching my wristwatch like a hawk, praying time would fly faster than our plane. We were 75 miles from Charlotte.
“Well folks, this is the captain speaking. There are thunderstorms in Charlotte right now, and we have about twenty planes lined up to come in after the storm subsides, so we’re in a holding pattern. We’ll let you know when we start our approach. It will probably be in about half an hour before we get going.”
I added in my head – half an hour for the coffee maker, half an hour for the storm, at least fifteen minutes to get the plane to the gate, and fifteen more to get off this plane. My 1.5 hour layover was gone. No time to run across the airport. No time to fill up on more water or change Liam. The computer was showing no delay on my next flight. We would miss it. I was sure. I was behind loads of people, and I needed assistance to get off the plane. I needed to wait for the stroller. We were sunk.
I managed to send a message to Justin via the plane Wi-Fi. “Come to Charlotte.” It would be 3.5 hour drive from Lynchburg, so it was better that he started now. Meanwhile, the Wi-Fi cut off, and I wasn’t able to give an explanation. Now I had a panicked husband headed for the airport.
Finally when we landed we were able to communicate again. “How are you so sure you won’t make it? You need to try. Get help.” I was certain. I was one of fifty people who needed help making their connection. The computer said the other plane was still not delayed. On time, 8:15 p.m.. I sighed as the time passed for its departure as I waited for Liam’s stroller.
An old text message from my mom came through. “God has always taken good care of you.” I chuckled. Yeah. But sometimes things happen. There’s no way out of this one. We’re winging it.
I needed to get a spot on the next flight out if I could so that Justin wouldn’t have to continue his drive to Charlotte. I convinced myself I still had to book it to my gate.
With my bags on me, I balanced Liam, still strapped into his car seat, on his small stroller, and power walked across that airport with a determined look on my face like it was nobody’s business.
I’ve never had so many people get out of my way.
I was 100 feet from the gate – I could see it ahead. I glanced at the monitors alongside. Nothing said “departed.” Confused, and in denial, I squinted at the scrolling red words ahead at my gate. “Lynchburg 8:45” I couldn’t believe it. A sweet miracle. I ran to the man at the gate, who stood there ready to take my ticket.
“Is this, is this going to Lynchburg still?” I huffed. “Yes mam,” he said, smiling. “Welcome aboard.”
I’ve never been so happy to board a plane. The dark sky, rain, and stairs leading up to the puddle-jumper didn’t even bother me. A passenger stopped to help me get everything onboard. I was in heaven. I sent Justin back to Lynchburg. I’d see him in 45 minutes.
Thank you, thank you, for all of your prayers. Our God hears prayer, and though our trip wasn’t easy, it was miraculous. And you were right Mom, God always takes good care of me (even when things don’t go right!).
Making the flight was the greatest traveling mercy, but not the last, of our journey. My husband greeted us with the car and a Diet Coke he had blindly grabbed at the gas station.
It said, “Share with… Family.”
And God winked.
Our purpose. Your purpose. The most important thing…
Posted on July 7, 2014
What is the point of the Christian life? You might expect us to say “missions” or “evangelism,” because we’re headed to the field one day. But we won’t.
It’s just not true.
As we move towards a life as a missionary family, and as you move forward in your Christian walk, I think we would all agree that we must keep our eyes on what is most important.
So what is most important? What is the point of our lives as Christians? Well, you probably know that we wouldn’t tell you “money” or “fame” or “success.” But we also won’t tell you “family” or “giving” or even “church.” And we already told you that it’s not even “missions,” though it seems that’s what we’re dedicating our lives to.
The point of the Christian life, now, and for all eternity, is worship.
One of our favorite quotes from a great and prolific Christian author argues this case: “Missions exists because worship doesn’t. Worship is ultimate, not missions, because God is ultimate, not man. When this age is over, and the countless millions of the redeemed fall on their faces before the throne of God, missions will be no more.” – John Piper
That is what we want. That is our goal as missionaries: to lead others to worship the One True God. On earth, and in heaven. That is what we are dedicating our lives to. The pursuit of more worship for an awesome God.
So as we look towards moving to Virginia at the end of this month to take our last step before applying for our missionary career, we remember that even though we leave behind family for a little while, and tithing for a little while (while there is no income), and our church for a little while, we can worship, and lead others towards worship, wherever we are, and with whatever we have.
Worship. Try it today. Pray to God, sing to God, thanking him, admiring him. See if it doesn’t bless you in return with a startling joy, peace in your body, and love to fill your heart. It’s our purpose. Live fully. Worship God.
– The Toews Family
What about that second child?
Posted on May 14, 2014
So, I told you we wanted another child. Soon. What about that?
To know the answer, you must know that I’ve been selfish. Oh so selfish. And proud.
I was so thrilled. My freelance workload increased exponentially, and I began to start a women’s Bible study for when we move to Lynchburg. “There’s no way I can do all of that and have another child,” I thought. “I’d burn out. Besides, I’m living my dream! I’d really rather that nothing got in the way!” Selfishness.
“I’m doing SO well with my freelance career. I’m going to make so much money for our little family. We won’t have to go without. We won’t have to worry in Lynchburg.” Pride.
Just as that last thought exhilarated me, my heart put out a warning : “This is not how God works. He doesn’t want you to be independent. He wants you to rely on Him. You will have to as a missionary. He wants you to start practicing now.”
As they say, pride comes before a fall. And I fell. Hard. My work diminished, then completely disappeared. Oh, I kid you not. I even started to get bad reviews on my work from some of my clients. This had never happened before. Ever. “I must be losing my touch,” I said to my family with a sad face. But I knew that wasn’t truly the case. God had always provided work when I’ve needed it. And I began to realize that if he gives, he must also have the power to take away.
I believe God allowed this kind of discipline from Him in my life because He knew that I’d understand it. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. Far from it. He was trying to show me something, and I knew I needed to find out what that was. So I began to seek.
I looked everywhere for lessons He could be teaching me. Nothing. I prayed. I waited. I read devotionals. Still nothing.
Last night I decided to fiddle with the family finances and see what would happen if I never worked another freelance hour. (Yes, I was in that much despair.) And I found something interesting: I truly didn’t need to make another cent in order to get us through Lynchburg. Would it be tight? Yes, extremely. Would we have any money at the end of the year? Nope. But at least we could make it through. In fact, we’d have exactly enough. I sighed and bowed my head. “Ok, God. I get it. This isn’t a justified worry that I won’t be able to get work done in order to feed my family. This is an issue of selfishness and pride.”
“If it pleases you, I won’t work one more day. I will spend more time with Liam. I will do the important task of raising my children well. And yes, I will be open to another child.” The many weeks of heart-humbling desert-walking made it possible for me to mean it.
And you know what? This morning I woke up, and I thought, “I still mean that.” And I lived like I said I would.
As I was spending more time with Liam on a walk, an email came through my phone from a favorite client: “Would you have time to do a large project for us?” I had spent so long waiting for this moment. I had imagined it would make my heart feel full of purpose and life again. But as I took a breath to let it fill up, I found that my heart was already full.
The jagged rocks of our issues . . .
Posted on May 7, 2014
Well, we’re in marriage counseling.
As the sun sets on the altar kiss, it is tempting to think that our issues set with it, disappearing into the darkness. But they are only temporarily covered by the glistening white sands of the honeymoon. Eventually, enough wind will blow and the jagged rocks will be revealed.
I could blame our need for counseling on the way my pregnancy cloaked our first year of marriage with an added layer of difficulty. The fatigue of the first trimester certainly rendered the fancy cookbooks useless, as I tried to balance housework, school, work, and a new marriage. The continued nausea of the second brought an exasperation that didn’t brighten our daily conversations, and the false labor of the third left me lying on my parents’ couch, feeling useless to my husband.
Instead, I’m thanking God. Yes, thanking Him. Our added difficulty acted as a sand sifter that shook the sand away faster than the wind could blow. The jagged rocks have now been revealed.
Our personal issues; born before marriage.
What we have learned in our short time of marriage is that the sooner those issues come to light, the better. I was sure that the counselors would shake their heads, pitying our early need for help. Instead, they have expressed their joy at how early we have arrived in their offices. “People usually come to us years down the road – and by then, much damage has been done. Trust has eroded. We are so proud of you for coming now.”
I was sure my friends would pity me as well. Instead I’m listening to a chorus: “I’m in marriage counseling too!” “I’ve heard it can be really great!” “So many of my friends have been helped by it!” “Pre-marital counseling wasn’t enough for us – so we’re getting more!” It is so refreshing to be surrounded by young people who accept and want help in their lives. This is healthy.
If you are newly married, or if one day you find yourself there – grab a hold of help right when you think you may need it. The resources are there. You simply need to extend your hand. A chorus of us will be waiting for you to tell us you’re there, too.
Healing From the Inside, Out…
Posted on April 5, 2014
I’ve been painting pictures of our family in the present moment. Unsuccessful, I’d call it. Messy. I’m speaking of the process, and, yes, sometimes the moments.
Every time I finish a scene, a facet of it changes and new colors have to be introduced. Parts have to be washed over, made brighter, blacked out.
And did I mention I’m painting with oils? Not acrylics, where the paint dries quickly and white can be layered over black in a matter of minutes. Oils, where the paint dries slowly and where white over black often equals a swirl of grey. Past influences flow over into the present. Each new color has a tint of the one below it.
There is one exception. Time. You can paint a fresh, new layer without tint, but it will cost you time. How much time? Weeks, months maybe with oils. If you let the colors soak in to the canvas and dry, you can almost have a fresh start.
But this is America. Can’t I use a hairdryer to speed-dry the oils? Can’t I just push myself to new levels without taking the time to heal?
Sure you can. And the result will look the same on the surface as if you had let the paint dry for weeks. You could start painting a new layer in no time.
But there is a catch. Between the canvas and the dry paint, there will remain a soft, wet layer of paint that has not dried. You cannot see it from the outside, and you never will. But when it dries, it will cause the top layer to crack. Break. Lose its beauty. Fall to pieces.
Oil paint must dry from the inside, out, not from the outside, in.
The only way to make a fresh start in our lives is to take honest time to dry, so we can heal from the inside, out. If we put on a “happy show” we are trying to heal from the outside in, and that can cause us to crack.
What do you need time to heal from? Are you putting on a “happy show” for any aspect of your life? I know I have, and it’s never turned out well. Let’s make the effort to truly heal, from the inside, out.
Running out of blessings . . .
Posted on January 4, 2014
“I just feel like . . . like someone is going to die. We’ve had so many blessings in our lives recently. I’m afraid they are going to run out. I’m afraid something terrible is about to happen.”
I confided these to my husband a week before our baby boy was born. Unfortunately my instinct was right, but thankfully my reasoning was wrong.
We were hoping for a “natural” birth – one with minimal interventions. Instead we racked up 32 hours of induced labor complete with cervidil, morphine, pitocin, and an epidural. My eyes were shut tight, redirecting all my energy to giving birth. I was longing for the end – when the baby would arrive, everyone would cheer, and I would hear my son’s cry for the first time. But that time never came.
I felt the last push of delivery, but what followed was silence, then a voice calling out commands, and the feeling that the air had been sucked out of the room. Liam Alexander Toews was given an Apgar score rating of just 2 out of 10. The cord had been wrapped around his neck twice. The only thing right with him was that his heart was beating. He had no breath, no cry, no grimace, and was turning blue at the edges. The entire pediatric staff was called in to diagnose and save him. They whisked him away to another room. Justin texted my parents who were waiting: “Pray.”
Prayer. Grace. That is what saved my baby. For many weeks leading up to the birth, I heard stories that people were praying for us, for our wellbeing – for a healthy mama and a healthy baby. I know that those prayers did not go unanswered. My son is here. He is healthy and handsome, and we are blessed again.
Now I understand that blessings do not simply run out. Blessings are never guaranteed, but as long as there is grace from God, and as long as there is prayer to petition Him, there will be blessings in this world. And mine is cradled in my arms.
From despair to confident hope…
Posted on November 24, 2013
My to-do list was thin. I was on vacation from work. The weekend stretched out ahead of me – broad and wide. And I panicked.
Frustration had built itself up inside of me for the past three and a half weeks. With every unproductive labor pain, there was a hope that it would indeed be the start of labor. After every series of labor pains came to an end, that frustration climbed. It wasn’t time yet.
In my despair, I crawled into bed to get some rest. I flipped through the applications on my phone before settling down. My Bible app came to mind. It had been a while since I’d opened it outside of a Bible study. I said a prayer in my head: “God, I’m going to open this app and look at the verse of the day, and no matter what it is, I’m going to try to apply it to my life.”
I opened it and read: “I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. – Romans 15:13”
There is only one adornment left in my parents’ house from my pre-marriage days. It’s a Bible verse scrawled on a piece of paper, taped to the inside of my medicine cabinet.
The verses were one and the same.
It was as though God was saying – “Remember this one? This verse you wanted to live by? You’re not living by it right now. But here’s another chance. I am the God of second chances. Will you apply it to your life as you just promised me?”
God is infinitely wise. I knew he had designed this moment to speak to my heart. But overflowing with confident hope is not an easy task. It was going to take a lot of work to get from despair to confident hope. I examined the verse again. It said that God would fill me with this hope if I trusted in him. All I had to do was trust. That, I could do. He would provide the seemingly impossible transformation.
I prayed: “Lord, I trust in you. Fill me with this joy and peace, so I can have hope. I trust in you. Fill me with joy and peace. Please fill me. I trust in you…” and I drifted off to sleep.
Has it made a difference? It most definitely has! My heart is so much lighter. My thoughts, brighter. I have been reminded that the key that leads me away from despair is a simple trust in my God. And if tomorrow I forget, I hope I am reminded again to trust, and let him transform me – from despair to confident hope.
A Halloween Letter to Baby L . . .
Posted on October 31, 2013
Dear Baby L,
Tonight I will look a little longer at all the boys trick-or-treating, and I will try to guess which one resembles you the most. I will try to guess which one is wearing a costume you would pick, and choosing the candy you would choose.
We are so anxious for your arrival. Me, your father, your grandparents, aunts and uncles, relatives, friends. We are all waiting for our first glimpse of you.
We’ve already been to the hospital once – very early in the morning. We thought that October 29th would be your birthday. They sent us home three hours later. My heart was so sad that it wasn’t time for you to come yet.
But my belly was still full with you – the baby boy with the strong heart beat that comforted me as I lay there waiting. You had powerful kicks that told us you didn’t approve of the monitors strapped around me, pressing in on your space.
There is one thing I know for sure. As much as I’d like to try, I will not be able to guess tonight which boy is wearing a costume you would pick, or choosing the candy you would choose. You will be unique – a person that I can’t even imagine.
After all, we didn’t design you. God did. You are “wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and we can’t wait to see the wonderful work he has done!
Hope to see you soon.
Love,
Mom
Two couples, one goal…
Posted on October 8, 2013
Two airplane pilots stand back to back on the green grass. One lets an arrow loose from the bow with his right hand, the other with his left. Thud. Thud. The target is pierced twice. Each hits dead center once in the game. Each wins one of two rounds. They had met years before, in college, where they both pursued mission aviation. Each one’s dream came to them in high school: to serve God in the name of Jesus Christ by helping missionaries and local people in third world areas have access to food, supplies, medical care, and transportation through the use of small airplanes. The two friends flew together to visit different aviation ministries and encouraged each other in their goals. They also trained relentlessly in martial arts together, finishing in the brown and black belt categories.
Two ladies recline in matching lounge chairs nearby in the shade of the hot day. Each wears a genuine vintage ring with a round cut diamond, surrounded by intricate white gold filigree. One’s name is Annaleis, the other, Anna Lisa. They each married one of the archers this year. The weddings were only two weeks apart. They had been drawn together by their husbands. Neither one knew of the other more than a year ago. But each woman had heard her own call to missions, to serve beside her husband.
Two couples, one goal: mission aviation. Each had seen the hand of God in their journey towards their goal – and they were almost ready.
But that day was the last day. It was the last day before the big move. Our friends Cory and Annaleis Woodsum have left California for a great job in Hawaii. But we are hopeful. On our journey as missionaries there will be times of parting, and this is only a foretaste of it. But there is a peace that dwells in us that tells us we will meet again. As the Woodsums leave to pursue a job in aviation, and we stay to serve our country and finish aviation maintenance school, there is a hope that we will all realize our dream and serve overseas together.
Whatever doors open for us down the road, we know we have been blessed to come this far, and to know each other. May our friendship continue for years to come.
Our hidden dark side…
Posted on August 11, 2013
I judge people. Often. It’s become so clear to me, now that I’m going into a transition that is quite often looked down upon in our society: moving back in with my parents.
I am my own worst critic. I have very high standards for myself (or so I’ve been told) and I despair when I fail to meet them. But I thought this “little problem” only hurt me, not others. How could it possibly hurt them? It’s all in my head. It’s all about me judging myself. It’s not about anyone else. Right?
Right?
The fact is, when we have standards (any kind – high or low) we tend to apply them universally, whether we realize it or not. This is where we get thoughts such as, “Well, if I were her, I’d get that enormous dent in the back of her car fixed. It’s so unsightly.” Or, “I’d never spend as much time and money on my education as he did. What a waste of precious resources.” We don’t think these things because we intend to be mean or judgmental. Dare I say: it almost comes naturally. It’s our hidden dark side. We simply hold others to our own standard.
Our outside standard. Our superficial standard. What we’re judging is how things appear, or how circumstances appear to be.
I believe that God is the only one who can see past the surface. He can even see past what people say and think about themselves – deep into the core – into the intentions of their hearts.
Because of that – God is the only one who has the right to judge. We cannot even rightly judge ourselves. (And thank goodness for that.)
The point becomes that I need to relax. I need to realize that no matter how hard I try, I cannot rightly judge a person. I cannot even judge my own performance in this life. All I can work towards is developing a heart with pure intentions. In my life, I have a model I can look to who had the purest of intentions – Jesus Christ. How would you go about developing a heart that is more pure?
Paper Dove Missions 