Outreach

Tomorrow marks the beginning of our long journey home. We’ll attend the church service one last time, share lunch together, and then start the trek back — first to Prague, and early Monday morning we’ll fly to Phoenix by way of London. It’s a familiar route now, yet it always feels different on the return trip. This will be my final blog post for this summer’s stay. Thank you for every prayer, every message, and every moment you’ve walked with us from afar. Your support has carried us through these weeks more than you know. We look forward to seeing you face‑to‑face soon. Ciao for now, Pastor Doug

The lyrics for this song were inspired by my previous blog post.  I used AI to compose the music.  I hope you enjoy. [Verse] There’s a house under the bell where the morning comes slow, Coffee cooling on the table as the first light starts to glow. Birds rise over the rooftops, and the town begins to fill, And the quiet wraps around me, soft and gentle, warm and still. [Chorus] Oh, the house under the bell, it held our hearts so well, In the stillness and the stories only quiet days can tell. We found rest, we found grace, in its steady, peaceful spell, In the house under the bell. [Verse 2] We said

This morning finds me sitting in what has become my quiet office in Dům Pod Zvonek — the House Under the Bell — here in Český Těšín. The rest of the house is still, my computer clock has just slipped past 7:05 a.m., and a cup of coffee sits just beyond the reach of my mouse. For a few brief moments, I have the gift of silence before the day truly begins. Outside, everything looks and sounds like a normal morning in this town. Birds are chirping, sunlight is stretching across the rooftops, and the distant hum of cars drifts through the windows. Life continues in its familiar rhythms, steady and unchanged. But for us,

Yesterday was a quiet, gentle day. We met with our friend Míša at the house, enjoying card games and simple conversation – the kind of easy fellowship that doesn’t require much planning. Later, the Mandrysz family welcomed us for an amzing dinner at their home. We shared a meal, lingered in their garden, and even joined in a bit of football (soccer) as the evening settled in around us. It was peaceful, unhurried, and exactly what we needed. Alongside those moments, we’ve begun the slow shift toward “reverse logistics” — the transition from nearly six weeks here back to life in the USA. That means double‑checking travel plans, confirming hotels, sorting what gets packed, and

Yesterday, Chris and I were picked up from our home by our friends David and Emma Rajca and driven to the nearby town of Hrádek to visit a summer Bible school — a collaboration between several local churches and the Evangelical Theological Seminary in Prague. The school sits tucked into the Beskyd Mountains, giving it a camp‑like feel, and because of its location, it draws youth from all over the country. Around fifty students gathered there, along with national Christian leaders, all spending a week immersed in Scripture and preparing themselves for ministry. I first learned about the school last year through David Rajca (pronounced Rye‑tsah), whose national ministry focuses on training youth pastors. Our

Today felt like a turning point — the day of recovery and healing we’ve been praying for. When I woke up this morning, I realized something small but significant: I hadn’t blown my nose once. After days of congestion, coughing, and weakness, that simple observation felt like a quiet mercy. Apart from a few lingering coughs, most of us are finally on the mend. Anna, who never got sick at all, spent a long stretch of the afternoon walking around the city with a friend. Levi, also feeling better, went jogging with one of his friends despite the heat. His energy returning is a good sign. Chris and I kept to our daily chore of

Today was another day of recovery. We cancelled plans again, still sniffling, coughing, blowing our noses, and dealing with waves of weakness and the possibility of fevers. We’re feeling slightly better, but not enough to be fully active. Ministry, at least the visible kind, remains on pause. Instead, we chose something very low‑key and practical: sorting and inventorying the summer camp supplies stored in the basement of the Student building. Down there are several large plastic bins, suitcases, and duffle bags—a patchwork collection of donations from American churches over the years mixed with supplies purchased here in Český Těšín. So today was a parade of kickballs, crayons, costumes, cards, paints, papers, post‑its, and bingo boards

Today was a small day. A quiet day. A day mostly spent in bed, drifting in and out of sleep while the rest of the house fought off the same lingering illness. Some of the family managed to make it to church, but I simply didn’t have the strength. My world was reduced to pillows, blankets, and the slow passing of hours. Later in the afternoon, Chris returned home with Radek—and with them came an unexpected blessing: KFC from Poland. It’s funny how something so ordinary can feel so comforting when you’re sick. More than the food, it was good just to see a friend. But even that short visit drained what little energy I

On Wedesday I will be giving a devotion at a local Bible school about Yahweh (Jehovah) Rapha – The LORD who heals.  God assigns this name to Himself after healing the bitter waters at Marah in Exodus 15.  He took a desperate physical situation and mercifully provided a solution.  Unfortunately, the place is remembered for Israel’s continued bitterness and grumbling instead of God’s healing power. As I have been mulling over this passage and our current illness situation I thought I would write another song.  When we face hardship in life, do we want to be remembered for our grumbling, or God’s amazing love?  The lyrics are below in case you are interested. [VERSE 1]

Almost the entire house is sick—sniffles, sneezes, and coughs drifting from room to room like a tired, off‑beat choir. I woke up late, heavy and slow, and found the sun already blazing. Outside, the heat had climbed past the temperature indoors, which meant something important in Czech summer living: the cooling window had closed. Here, most homes don’t rely on air‑conditioning. Instead, you cool the house by ventilating early—opening the windows wide in the morning to let in the crisp air, then shutting everything tight once the outside temperature rises. The idea is simple: trap the morning coolness inside and hold it as long as possible. But if you sleep through that window, the house