Goodnight, Alaska

Dear Alaska,

It’s been roughly 75 days since I walked out of your life and into the one waiting for me back home. There isn’t a day since that I haven’t thought of you. You poured into and drained out of me in equal measure, changing my perspective in critical areas. Even still, the fervor of the vows I made to appreciate what I have, to give more freely, and to love more deeply lost its energy with each crisis I faced as the sweltering summer wore on. I scoffed at the person who told me that would happen. I wish I could have proven him wrong.  

My favorite postcard from Copper Center.

But Alaska, you did teach me a form of gratitude I didn’t expect: an appreciation of the familiar. While your majestic, snow-capped mountains and glacier-fed rivers took my breath away, I recall looking out of the window of our airplane headed towards Seattle and marveling at the birds-eye view of the Susquehanna River cutting through lesser-known ridges of the Appalachian Mountains, less than 25 miles from where I was born. Ridges with names like Line Mountain at a whopping 1,657 feet and Mahantango Mountain at 1,810 feet. These mountains are spectacles of nature, created by God, beautiful in their own right. At 12,010 feet, Mt Drum would look like a show-off here in Pennsylvania.

This photo is looking southwest, with the Susquehanna River meandering southeast. The lower left below the mountain ridge is Northumberland County. The upper left is Upper Dauphin county. The upper right corner shows the Perry/Snyder County line.

Dear Alaska, God used you to provide a setting in which His people blessed each other. This happened on rainy days while people worked inside and out, either with a purple laptop, kitchen stove, or an impact driver and a circular saw. It happened in the early mornings over lukewarm coffee and candid conversations. God’s presence was near at the evening Bible study led by Dennis Charley and at the Celebrate Recovery meeting on Thursday night. As a team, we blessed each other in those bus rides to and from Palmer, filled mostly with laughter, stopping for lunch at one of the overlooks on the Glennallen Highway, catching a glimpse of the Dall sheep, and the commanding view of Mt Drum. Just not a single. Solitary. Bear.

Finally, Alaska, you turned my definition of a missionary upside down and challenged me in ways that I did not expect. Through you, God showed me what I am capable of and where my weak spots are. Your landscape and your people have inspired me to work on those areas. I am so glad God allowed those things to happen in your territory.

Your Faithful, awe-struck admirer

A great capture of a job well done. Our final day at the parsonage.

It Seems Fitting to Close in Prayer...

Dear Father-God,

I thank you for the lessons I learned on a series of Boeing 737 plane rides and in the Philly, Seattle, and Anchorage airports. I thank you for the mountains, the moose and her calf, the (sadly) lack of bears, the bald eagles, and the endless, empty stretches of highway and scenery. I thank you for the fishing wheel, and yes, even the mosquitos and the early mornings with pounding rain on a metal roof.

This was a total blind-shot taken on the road to Valdez, June 9, 2024.

Our friend Ike showed us the fishing wheel along Copper River while the mosquitos swarmed everyone but him. (Or so it seemed!)

I thank you for the laughter, tears, and frustrating lack of internet, for they showed me just Who is in charge. Lord, forgive me for trying to make this trip something it wasn’t.

It wasn’t about me getting a record number of views on the blog. It wasn’t about my personal development. It wasn’t even about my dad, the Reverend Lewis, who passed five years ago and yet I still thought would show up at the airport, the Copper Center Community Church Sunday service, or at the Celebrate Recovery meeting. You love me enough to protect me from the things I don't understand.

Lord, I thank you for the people of Copper Center, LightShine Alaska, and Living Water Community Church. They got me to Alaska and back through prayers, encouraging emails and text messages, and most notably, their financial support. I am thunderstruck by your providential love in placing these groups in my path.

Finally, I thank each team member: Mel, Lee, Mike, Jim, Jason, Jacob, Cheryl, Mae, and Lynn. Each one of these folks gave of themselves in ways both seen and unseen. They have taught me things that I will take with me forever.

Our first team photo taken March 2, 2024.

Thank you, Father, for your love, your mercy and grace.

Amen

Signing Off...

And that, my friends, is a wrap. The Alaskan Lights are out until God sees fit to light it again.