I rev the engines and the airplane shudders to life, eager to take flight. The soldiers on the tarmac wave enthusiastically, sorry to see us go. As we depart “the surly bonds of earth,” the hum of the well-tuned engines is heavenly music to my ears. Leaving the sea of soldiers behind, it reminds me of my return flight from heaven—how quickly I was swept away, how everything grew smaller until at last it was out of sight. Memories of how wonderful it felt to be in heaven, surrounded by such love, flooded my mind. It was a lot like the love we were surrounded by in the Lusaka Airport. When we got back to the States, we sent Bibles to Mwelwa and the other soldiers and their wives. After all, they were family now. That family has grown with each one of the hundreds of mission trips we have flown, with each Bible sent, each gospel tract, each showing of the Jesus film, each clinic we helped build, each shipment of medical supplies we helped deliver. A Learjet similar to the one flown on Dale’s missionary flight to Zambia.
