Ok, show of hands...Who out there would have guessed that Benedictine Monks have Internet? Come on. Seriously. I know that I never would have believed it. But wonder of wonders, here I sit in a Benedictine Monastery in the Chama Valley of New Mexico and voila, DSL!

Now, before you really get down the road of skepticism, remember something. These guys have vowed to lives live of simplicity mostly in silence. There is a difference between simplicity and being Amish. Nothing in their philosophy mandates technology be viewed as evil. As a matter of fact, they are on the cutting edge of technology. The entire monastery's electricity is solar powered. What that means is: you can't just flip on the light when you walk in a room. There aren't any. The only lights are in the church and in the "refractory" (where you can talk and eat). Otherwise, it is good ol' Mr. Sun and a rechargeable lantern; the battery is only good for a couple of hours. That's no problem though, because you don't stay much past sundown. The first prayer service (Vigil) is at 4:00 am. AM. AM. Early morning, before sunrise. Ok, show of hands. When was the last time you got up - intentionally - at 4 in the morning to pray for an hour? Raise 'em high.

There are some amazing things you can learn about life out here in the wilderness. I've chronicled quite a few pages over the last 4 days and plan on quite a few more. Tomorrow I'll share just one of my recent revelations - which as I've found out isn't anything brand new.

As a quick summary, I've had run-ins with more rain than I thought possible in a desert, one very mad rattlesnake, an agnostic fellow from Santa Fe (who I pulled weeds with for 2 hrs), and a host of smiling monks. Life is good. God is great. You all are wonderful.

Peace be with you.
The Benedictine Bandito (aka Jeff)

Here is where I'm staying: http://www.christdesert.org

Well, we are all here. We know where "here" is, but it is not a "here" we are familiar with. Our home town address now reads "Little Elm, Texas." I know where it is on a map, about 20 North of downtown Dallas - straight up the Dallas Tollway and then jog West (that's toward California). Even though I know where "here" is, it is not yet home.

For the last few nights, I've laid awake looking at the ceiling and, for some odd reason thought of Coleridge's famous poem. In the Rime of the Ancient Mariner there is that great stanza, "Water, water every where and all the boards did shrink; Water, water every where nor any drop to drink." But, the line doesn't go through my head that way. Instead, it goes, "Boxes, boxes everywhere and not a place to sit; Boxes, Boxes everywhere and oh, floors hurt my hips." Our "here" is a blank-walled, box-filled maze. Home is suppose to be a place where you invite friends for dinner, a place where you come at the end of a long day to feel comfortable and secure. Home is like an old leather jacket that fits the contour's of your body. The shoulders sag in just the right places and you know without looking where the pockets are and how the zipper sticks right after you get it started. Home is a place - as the proverbial saying goes - where the heart is... Well, we left our hearts in Temple, Texas.

There is no doubt that eventually this "here" will become home. There is no doubt that over time, and after many boxes are unpacked, our rental house will fit us. Like an new jacket, homes need to be worn for a while to fit just right. I say all this because all five of us are missing our old home, our old friends, and our old church. Jennifer and I have to continue to remind ourselves, and the kids, that this move was the right thing.

Today is Sunday and tomorrow I head off to spend 10 days in the New Mexico desert. In some ways I'm looking forward to the time of solitude and lack of modern conveniences. In many other ways I'm terrified. I'm going to miss Jennifer and the kids something awful. This time away is going to be a time of introspection, a time to stand back and look in the mirror of my life, and I'm a bit scared of what I might glimpse. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert and from at least one gospel account it doesn't sound like a time of fun and games. Biblically speaking, the desert is a time of testing and refining. I hate tests and have never enjoyed being melted down to be reshaped. So, there is much about the next 10 days that make me wish I'd not been so agreeable about this aspect of my recovery and healing. I'll make you a deal though, I'll tell you about it when I get back...at least some of it.

I'm banking on the fact that when I get back from the smelting factor of New Mexico that "here" will feel a lot more like home than when I left.

One last note: to all those who are supporting us (both in prayer and financially) we want you to know how much you mean to us. Without you this transition would be physically, emotionally, and spiritually impossible. We owe you more than we can ever express with words. Please continue to hold us up before the Father in your petitions.

I'll talk to you in a few weeks. Peace, Jeff